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ASTEOLOGEE OF CHALDEA, 


LIFE OF FAITH. 





ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA 


0£ THE 


LIFE OF FAITH. 


BY W. P. STRICKLAND, D. D. 
" 

AUTHOE OF “ THE LIGHT OF THE TEMPLE. 



CINCINNATI: 


PUBLISHED BY JACOB ERNST, 112 MAIN STREET. 

1 855 . 




Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by 
W. P. STRICKLAND, 

In the Clerk’s Office for the Southern District of Ohio. 


4 


INTRODUCTION. 


The following sketches are drawn from veritable outlines of 
history. The incidents connected with the life of the vene- 
rable patriarch Abraham and his family, with the collateral 
events occurring during his eventful history, are full of 
romantic interest to every lover of sacred scenes, and though 
the author has drawn somewhat on the imagination, yet 
truth has not been subjected to fiction. Imagination may be 
legitimately allowed to exercise its strongest powers wdieu 
bounded by the great outlines of truth, and the sacred writers 
themselves indulged in such a license, and so long as the 
imagination does not transcend the bounds of probability 
no valid objection can be urged against its exercise. 

Talfourd says of the effects of an imaginative literature, 
“ The world is not in danger of becoming too romantic. The 
golden threads of poesy are not too thickly or too closely 
interwoven wfith the web of existence. Sympathy is the first 
great lesson which man should learn. It will be ill for him, 
if he proceed no further, if his emotions are but excited to 
roll back on his heart and to be fostered in luxurious quiet. 
But unless he learns to feel for things in which he has no 
personal interest, he can achieve nothing generous or noble. 
The soul will not be the worse for thinking too well of its 


V 


VI 


INTRODUCTION. 


kind, or believing that the highest excellence is within the 
reach of its exertions.” 

If the remarks of that distinguished man be true, and that 
they are, every genial nature will respond in the aflSrmative, 
it would be well instead of making fiction appear like truth 
for the purpose of securing credence, to present truth in the 
most attractive garb, and thus obviate the nesessity of fiction. 
If in regard to mere works of fiction where the real is left 
and types of excellence are created for the purpose of exciting 
mankind to loftier standards in the attainment of higher ex- 
cellencies, why should imagination be shut out of the realm 
of fact itself? If truths are important and salutary, the 
more interest they can be invested with the better, as in that 
case they will be more attractive and powerful in holding 
and guiding the mind along the sacred path. 


TABLE OF CONTENTS 


• 

CHAPTER I. 

The Festival at Eden, 9 

CHAPTER II. 

Royal Festival at Nineveh, 29 

CHAPTER III. 

The Temple at Babylon, 51 

CHAPTER IV. 

Coui't of Egypt, 70 

CHAPTER V. 

Battle of the Kings, 85 

CHAPTER VI. 

Visit of the Angels to Sodom, 100 

CHAPTER VII. 

Promise Fulfilled, 119 

CHAPTER VIII. 

The Trial of Faith, 128 

• • 

Vll 


Vlll 


CHAPTER IX. 

Gloom and Gladness, 141 

CHAPTER X. 

The Message to Ur, 147 

CHAPTER XI. 

The Wild Man of Prophecy, 164 

CHAPTER XII. 

Egyptian Mysteries, 183 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Death of Abraham, 200 

CHAPTER XIV. 

The Child of Promise, 211 

CHAPTER XV. 

The Child of Destiny,.., 257 


7 


f 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


CHAPTER 1. 

THE FESTIVAL AT EDEN. 

Ur, or Uric, “the city of light or fire,” for such 
was the meaning thereof in the Chaldean tongue, 
was situated in a valley on the bank of the river 
Tigris. The valley extended from the river to what 
is now denominated the Tiyari mountains, a chain 
of which extending north and south formed the 
ancient boundary between Persia on the north and 
east and Chaldea on the west. 

The country around Ur, extending from its north- 
ern limits down to the city of Nineveh, a distance 
of many miles, was magnificent beyond description. 
The vale of Ispahan in Persia, with its varied and 
beautiful scenery of forest and plain and river, its 
trees and flowers and surrounding mountains, its 
days of cloudless skies and nights of starry beauty, 
could not vie with the valley of the Tigns. One 
spot particularly, which had been designated as the 
site of ancient Eden, was surpassingly^ beautiful. 

9 


10 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


In the center of this Eden was spread out a lake 
whose mirror-like surface reflected the graceful 
oriental trees which grew upon its banks, and the 
gorgeous flowers which lined its margin. Here 
nature had scattered with profusion her choicest 
gifts. Here were birds of brightest plumage and 
sweetest song. Art could add nothing to its beauty. 
Indeed, the clumsy hand of man would have de- 
stroyed its loveliness and blighted its flowers. It 
stood near the base of the mountain, about equi- 
distant from Nineveh and Ur, the former of which 
was the .residence of the great king of Assyria, 
whose palace was as rich and m.agnificent as the 
country of which the city of Nineveh was the me- 
tropolis. This palace was situated in an open plaza 
in the center of the city, which was built on an area 
sixty miles in circumference, and surrounded by a 
wall one hundred feet high, and so thick that three 
chariots could be driven abreast on its summit. On 
this wall were stationed, at proper distances, fifteen 
hundred towers, each of which was two hundred 
feet high. The city was an oblong, extending along 
the banks of the Tigris and back to the mountains. 
In the days of its greatest prosperity it contained 
about two hundred thousand souls. Besides the 
palace of the king, there were others of great extent 
and magnificence, surrounded by parks and pleasure 
gardens. 

The city of Ur was located in a rural district, and 


THE FESTIVAL AT EDEN. 


il 


though not on a scale of equal magnificence with 
Nineveh, yet possessed some palaces and monuments 
of art which rendered it attractive. It contained a 
magnificent temple, the ruins of which have now, 
after the lapse of nearly four thousand years, been 
discovered by an oriental traveler. This temple was 
erected to the Sun, and here the priests of Chaldea 
assembled to worship the emblem of the Great Spirit. 
On its lofty summit the holy fire was kept perpetu- 
ally burning, streaming afar over the valley and the 
plains of Mesopotamia ; and the traveler at night on 
the mountains of the east, or the far reaching plains 
on the west, could discern the representation or em- 
blem of the object of their worship. Near its base, 
in the garden, surrounded by an enclosure, was the 
mystic tree and the holy fountain, with its sacred 
cup, from which the king and priests drank in honor 
to the Sun. This fountain was said to confer im- 
mortality, and all who were permitted to enter the 
enclosure and partake of its waters, were considered 
as consecrated to the Sun. 

The inhabitants "were mostly engaged in tilling 
the soil or occupied in the peaceful pursuits of a 
pastoral life, with the exception of the priests and 
those who were devoted to the study of Astrology. 
It was here that attention was first paid to the study 
of the stars, and from this point what knowledge the 
ancients had of Astronomy was spread throughout 
Babylonia and Persia, and the countries of the east. 


12 


THE ASTROLOGER OP CHALDEA. 


To the beautiful retreat in the valley, of which 
we have already spoken, the citizens of Nineveh and 
Ur would frequently resort on festive occasions. 
The pride and beauty of Nineveh would often gather 
there, and there youth and pleasure would meet to 
join in the sacred dance, and Eden on such occa- 
sions, would resound with the wild tumultuous joy 
of the gathered throng. On the road winding do^^n 
from the summits of the Tiyari, or along the path 
across the plain, might be seen the young men and 
maidens with joyous hearts and bright anticipations, 
urging their way to the pleasure bowers. 

On one of these occasions a youth from Ur, tall 
and graceful, with majestic mien and thoughtful 
countenance, entered the gay throng. He resided 
with his father, a renowned priest of the Sun, and 
devoted his time to the service of the temple and 
the study of the stars. Often, while standing out 
upon the observatory by night, has he gazed up into 
the clear deep vault above him, and, as his large 
black piercing eye would take in its field of vision 
the orbs of light that glittered in the outspread 
canopy, his spirit would whisper to him “and are 
these thy gods?’’ 

Once, while lost in thoughtful reveries in regard 
to the Sabien worship and its gods, he was more 
than usually sad at the dreadful uncertainty which 
rested upon his mind in regard to his^ nature and 
destiny. Whence came he ! — what was he ! — • 


THE FESTIVAL AT EDEN. 


13 


whither was he going ? What would become of 
him ? were thoughts which came with overwhelming 
weight upon his mind. 

He had been among the favored few who had sat 
beneath the mystic tree ; he had partaken of the 
holy cup, and was ranked among immortals ; but 
alas ! the draught satisfied not the longings of his 
spirit. There was within an aching void which sun 
nor moon nor stars nor holy flame nor sacred fount 
could fill. It was the yearning of the soul after an 
immortality which the worship of fire and light 
could never impart. These were fit and appropriate 
emblems of the Great Spirit who fills all space, and 
pervades immensity with his presence, but they 
were only emblems, inanimate emblems of Him, — 

Whose spirit wraps the dusky mountain ; — 

Whose spirit hovers o’er the fountain : 

While every rill and mighty river 
Flows mingling with his praise forever.” 

As such, they were inadequate to pour light and 
, comfort into his soul. 

In this state of mind he had resolved that he 
would attend the approaching festival at Eden. 

How often does the unrest and disquiet of the 
soul prompt its possessor to go in quest, alas often 
too vainly, of that which it cannot find at home. 

' There is a desolateness which attends the weary 
spirit in its wanderings over the trackless waste, 
Tike the dove of Noah in quest of a kindred bower 


14 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


in which to nestle, that only those realize who have 
been conscious of the wilderness around them, 
though in the midst of crowding, pressing, gain, 
and pleasure-seeking thousands. 

On the evening previous to his departure, he had 
been out to his grotto for the purpose of engaging in 
his evening meditations and worship. It was a night 
of vernal beauty. The full-orbed moon rose bright 
over the Tiyari mountains, and shed her soft and 
silvery light on the temple of black granite, and 
seemed even to mellow the glare of the holy fire on 
its summit. The noise and bustle of Ur was left 
behind, as Abram the elevated,” for such was the 
meaning of his name in the Aramean tongue, entered 
his grotto. Taking his seat, he turned to the east, 
and fixing his eyes upon the god of light, he ex- 
claimed, “ Divine Creator, the manifest Deity and 
Savior, let thy beams illumine my soul and guide 
thou me by thy sacred influences.” 

Then turning to the west, he beheld the evening 
star hanging just over the horizon. “Behold,” 
said he to himself, “ the God and Lord of mv des- 
tiny. Brightest and best of all the stars of night, 
guide thou my steps, nor let my feet wander in dark- 
ness.” 

As he gazed and adored the God of his destiny, 
and was wrapt in intense thought, behold ! alas ! the 
star of his worship and fate sank below the line 
separating earth and sky, and was lost to his vision. 


THE FESTIVAL AT EDEN. 


16 


** Ah,” said he, “it is ever thus with my bright- 
est visions and fondest hopes. Just when I seem to 
grasp and feel their power to bless and save, like the 
mirage in the desert, they are gone ; like the me- 
teor’s flash they disappear, and leave my soul in 
darkness.” 

Turning in the direction of the temple he said : 
“ Yonder burns the only light that does not expire. 
The moon and stars all have their time of departure, 
and leave the world to darkness and myself ; but 
thou dost burn on, holy light. 0, that thou wast 
not of man’s kindling. Even the sun, the great god 
of fire, only has its day, as moon and stars have 
their night, but day and night thy vestal fires as- 
cend, and burn on forever. Can it be,” said the 
youthful devotee, “that these are my creator ; that 
the mountain and river and valley, and trees and 
beasts and birds and reptiles are the work of their 
hands? If so, why do they not impart happiness 
to their worshippers, and why does death come to 
man? King and priest and worshipper alike have 
gone down to the chambers of the dead. They re- 
turn no more to greet us with their smiles, and 
cheer us with their presence. 0, my friends ! 
where are they?” he exclaimed with the deepest 
emotion. 

In an agony of grief he sank to the earth, and his 
sad and desolate heart poured forth its sorrows. He 
thought of his former companions and the one most 


16 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


dear to his heart, whose presence always cheered 
him — the light of whose calm blue eye filled him 
with such wild delight, as she would gaze upon him 
when they met ; and whose mysterious disappear- 
ance from her native bower, was more like a terrible 
dream than a dread reality. Ah, where was she ? 
the idol of his heart. “ Alas, that neither beauty 
nor goodness, nor intense devotion to the gods, 
could save from the relentless power of death.” 

While his mind tvas thus tossed as upon a sea of 
tumultuous passions, the night passed away. The 
god of light had hid himself behind the western 
mountains, and the god of fire was rising over the 
Tiyari as he entered the gate of Ur to make prepa- 
rations for his departure. 

At an early hour the city was astir, and the aged 
and the young were busily engaged in getting ready 
for the journey to Eden. A deputation of priests 
was sent from the temple of Ur to conduct the sa- 
cred ceremonies, as the nobility of Nineveh with 
their horses and chariots, together with a large 
multitude, were expected to be present on ii\e occa- 
sion. 

Eden smiled in all its vernal bloom. The sacred 
bowers never looked lovelier, while tlie whole atmos- 
phere was redolent with fragrance, as the pilgrims 
from Ur entered the spacious arbors and reclined in 
the refreshing shade. The embowered lake was 
calm and not a ripple was seen upon its surface, ex- 


THE FESTIVAL AT EDEN. 


17 


cept occasionally, as a swan of snowy whiteness 
would glide among the water lilies. 

Presently t#ie blast of a trumpet is heard echoing 
through the bowers, and the assembled group start 
to their feet, for they know it is the herald’s signal 
of the royal approach to Eden. Guards are stationed 
at the entrance of the roval bowers, and as there was 
no need of strewing flowers, for nature had already 
scattered them in thick profusion along his path, the 
king and his royal escort were greeted by the “all 
hail,” of the multitude. 

The royal equipage exceeded any thing that had 
ever before been beheld. The king was dressed in 
. the most gorgeous apparal. A purple robe, elabo- 
rately ornamented and richly embroidered with gold 
and precious stones, enveloped his person. A massy 
' crown of gold, decorated with gems, encircled his 
I brow, and in his hand he held the royal scepter. 

The chariot in which he rode, was made of the 
•; richest wood from the far off mountains of Lebanon, 

, inlaid with ivory and gold. The horses were richly 
i caparisoned and were led by eunuchs whose ebony 
i color indicated the country of their nativity. Two 
} of these were on either side of the royal person, 

' holding sacred fans as sun-screens. Then followed 
' in the procession the princes and nobility of Nineveh, 
all arrayed in a style suited to the occasion, 
i It was the annual grand festival of the Sun, and 
all having arrived, even the dwellers from Tiyari, 


18 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


and the magi from the vale of Ispahan, the priests 
engaged in making preparations for the morning 
orison, by the erection of an altar, the consecration 
of the sacred tree, and the formation of the mystic 
circle. 

The young astrologer had never been here before. 
He had frequently witnessed similar ceremonies in 
the temple at Ur, but not with the same attendant 
pompous circumstances ; and anxious as he was to 
find the true light, or something that would satisfy 
the longings of his soul, and solve the doubts which 
gathered in darkening folds around him in regard to 
his destiny, he took a lively and all-absorbing inte- 
rest in the preparations that were going on. When 
night came, he returned to the edge of the bower, 
where, unobstructed by the trees, he could gaze 
upon the moon and stars, and sigh out his spirit in 
prayers to those emblems of the gods of his fathers. 

The first gray streaks of morning were tinging the 
tops of the adjacent mountain, as he rose from his 
tent and sallied forth to look upon the scene around 
him. All was quiet. The large pavilion of Nine- 
veh’s proud king and princes occupied the center 
of the encampment ; while ranged around at regular 
intervals were the tents of the multitude. The tent 
of the priests was pitched within the mystic circle, 
which also enclosed the altar and the sacred tree. 

While he wandered and gazed upon these scenes, 
morning advanced, and the watchers from the moun- 


THE FESTIVAL AT EDEX. 


19 


tain announced by the blast of their trumpet the 
rising of the god of fire in the distant east. The 
sleepers were awakened, and soon all was life and 
activity in the Encampment of Eden. The tents 
were struck, folded and borne away, and the song 
of the priests summoned all to the circle. A mes- 
senger dove was perched upon the sacred tree, that 
so soon as the beams of the sun should strike its 
top, it might fly to the altar, and thus give to the 
priests the signal of the approach of their god. 

All eyes were fastened upon the dove, which 
could be seen from the outer edge of the circle, 
nestled on the topmost branch. Another blast from 
the trumpet, and all voices were hushed as if by the 
stillness of death. Soon the dove was seen to spread 
its wings for flight ; its eyes had caught the rays of 
the sun, and gently descending to the altar, the 
torch lighted at the holy fire on the temple of the 
Sun in Ur, was applied to the victim, and instantly 
the priests fell on their faces, and the multitude 
bowed in adoration, while all invoked the blessings 
of their god, as the smoke and flame of the sacrifice 
ascended upwards from the altar. 

Again and again the priests prostrated themselves, 
exclaiming, “ Great is the Sun, the source of light 
and life to all mankind,” to which all the people 
responded Selah.” 

Not all, for there was one who stood in that group 
transfixed. He did not speak. He did not bow his 


20 THE ASTROLOHEK OF CHALDEA. 

knee. His eyes were fastened on some object only 
visible to him in the distant heavens. He was mo- 
tionless as a statue, and had it not been for the kind- 
ling fire of his dark lustrous eye, and the smile of 
inimitable sweetness which overspread like a glory 
his countenance, all would have supposed him dead. 
The young astrologer, for he it was who was thus 
exciting the attention and wonder of the multitude, 
could not be diverted from his gaze. Some thought 
he w'as smitten by the Sun, and that the god of fire 
had marked him for his own. To all entreaties he 
was deaf. There he stood, fixed and motionless, 
gazing up into the clear deep blue of that Assyrian 
sky. 

At this juncture a young princess from the court 
of Nineveh, of slender form, richly attired, holding 
in her hand an alabaster vase of the most costly 
perfume, glided softly up to the stranger as if fearful 
of awakening him, yet with that intent she gently 
touched him, and placing the vase to his nostrils, 
she hoped to awaken him to consciousness. Find- 
ing this would not do, she commenced singing — 

“Wake, brother, wake, the day has come, 

The god of fire has left his home ; 

Wake, for the morning sacrifice 

Will glad thy heart and cheer thine eyes.” 

The charm was broken, the spell was dissolved, 
and the averted head gradually and gently turned 
until the eyes of the astrologer met the gaze of the 


THE FESTIVAL AT EDEN. 


21 


young and beautiful princess who had taken so much 
interest in his fate. In that gaze there was a recog- 
nition, and then a long embrace : the loved and lost 
was found. 

Sarai, the princess, for thus meaneth her name in 
the language of Chaldea, the betrothed of Abram, 
had mysteriously disappeared from Ur, and she had 
been mourned as dead. For her rare beauty she 
had been abducted, and taken to the palace of the 
king to be placed among the maids of honor in the 
court of Nineveh. 

To her he had a right, — if you please, a pre- 
emption right, which no king or potentate could set 
aside. Next to her God who claimed her as her 
creator, he claimed her as having the earliest and 
choicest affections of her heart. Love had united 
them, and the Great Spirit had sealed the bond 
which made them one forever. 

The stranger, or rather the young astrologer and 
the princess, soon separated, the latter returning to 
her company, and the former to his gaze, but not 
with that intense fixedness which had before charac- 
terized it. Enough had passed between them, how- 
ever, in the short space in which they were together, 
to make all arrangements necessary for a re-union. 

But what fixed the gaze of the young astrologer? 
What potent spell bound him to that spot so com- 
pletely absorbing his spirit, and kindling such rap- 
tures in his heart? Had he found the object of his 


22 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


anxious search — the satisfying portion of his soul ; 
and was it an apprehension that he should lose the 
long sought prize, that prompted him to turn again 
to his gaze in the heavens as quickly as the needle 
turns to its pole, when the disturbing influences of 
the magnet are withdrawn? 

Yes, that object for which his spirit longed and 
which he had sought by night and by day, on 
mountain and in vale, in temple and grotto, had at 
last been found, and all the chambers of his soul 
were filled with unutterable joy and rapturous 
delight. 

It was not the god of fire that had riveted his 
attention. Far up in that cloudless sky, there shone 
a light and glory above the brightness of the sun. 
So intense was the splendor, that to the young as- 
trologer the sun himself grew dim. It was a reve- 
lation of the Great Spirit, the Divine Shekinah, — a 
manifestation of the God of Heaven, the Creator of 
sun, moon and stars, whose power dissolves the 
bands of Orion, gives to the influences of the Plei- 
ades their charm, and guides Arcturus with his* 
satellites. That glory ivas a divine afflatus to his 
soul, and as he gazed, deep upon the tablet of his 
heart was stamped indelibly the image of the In- 
visible One — 

“Whose throne is darkness in the abyss 
Of uncreated light.'’ 

The Chaldeans, Babylonians, and Persians were 


THE FESTIVAL AT EDEN. 


23 


worshippers of the sun, moon, and stars. Their 
religion was a system of astrology, by which they 
claimed to know with the greatest exactness, by 
means of the aspect and combination of the stars 
and planets, what would be the genius, temper, 
manners, events of life, and destiny of all whose 
birth was noted. The expanse of the firmament, 
according to this system, was divided into twelve 
equal parts, denominated the signs of the zodiac. 
These twelve equal parts possessed attributes pecu- 
liar to themselves, such as wealth, honor, and dis- 
tinction. The planets were divided into the propi- 
tious, the malignant, and the mixed, and those who 
were born under these stars were born to a destiny 
partaking of the nature of the stars which presided 
over their birth. 

In the sacred writers we find allusions in reference 
to the influence of the stars, which would lead one 
to infer that the astrology of the Chaldeans was a 
prevailing sentiment among all the oriental nations, 
and to some extent at least, gave a tinge to the 
thoughts of the patriarchs and prophets of olden 
time. In the Old Testament, the patriarch and 
prime minister of the court of Egypt, Joseph, in 
pronouncing a blessing upon Jacob, pointed to the 
star of his destiny. The patriarch and prince of 
Uz referred to the influence of Orion and Pleiades, 
and urged upon his counsellors to worship the god 
of “the Seven Stars and Orion.” The proud mon- 


24 THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 

arch of Israel, though not a worshipper of the stars, 
yet paid a most profound attention to their study, 
and through the works of God, bowed in humble 
adoration before the throne of their Creator. In 
referring to the protection and defense of the ser- 
vants of God, he declared that the “sun should not 
smite them by day nor the moon by night;’’ and one 
of Zion’s sweetest minstrels sang of the sure pro- 
tection of those who worshipped the God of heaven, 
in strains like the following : 

No damp shall blast thy couch by night, no star 

Dart its malignant fires so far.” 

The descendants and successors of the magi thou- 
sands of years afterwards, while engaged in their 
astrological labors in predicting the fate of kings 
and nations by the position and motion of the stars, 
were startled in their nightly contemplations by the 
strange and sudden appearance of a new star which 
crossed the field of their vision. As they gazed 
upon its clear bright disc, and felt the soft myste- 
rious influence of its rays, their minds were filled 
with wonder and delight. It was the re -appearance 
of a lio’ht which had come to the Jewish law-jxiver 
on Horeb and Sinai, and which subsequently filled 
the Tabernacle in the wilderness and the Temple at 
Jerusalem with a glory never seen by mortal eye 
since the cherub stood with flaming sword to guard 
the gates af ancient Eden. The magi looked upon 
the celestial visitant as a harbinger of good, for 


THE FESTIVAL AT EDEX. 


25 


there was nothing malignant in its aspect. In 
searching the ancient predictions they found it to 
answer to the Shiloh of prophecy, whose coming 
had long been looked for, and formed a part of the 
traditions of the East. Sacred history informs us 
that the magi followed this star, and it led them to 
the very spot where the king of the Jews was born. 
It was, in the language of Astrology, the star of his 
destiny. 

The Persians adored the Sun, and through their 
priests and magi, kept up a perpetual worship by 
means of a perpetual fire which they kept burning 
on their altars in temples dedicated to that orb. 
When the god of day first gilded the east with his 
rising beams, as the eye caught them, the profound- 
est veneration "was paid to him as the source of all 
their blessings. To him they dedicated a magnifi- 
cent chariot, with horses of the greatest beauty and 
value. The same ceremony was performed by the 
Chaldeans and Babylonians, and we learn from the 
Sacred Record that some of the kings of Judah in- 
troduced the ceremony into the very precincts of 
the Temple of Jehovah ; and the rites were kept up 
until Josiah ascended the throne. The Scriptures 
inform us that Josiah “ took away the horses that 
the kings of Judah had given to the Sun, at the 
entering in of the house of the Lord by the chamber 
of Nathanmelech the chamberlain, which was in 
the suburbs, and burnt the chariots of the Sun with 


26 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


fire. And the altars that were on the top of the 
upper chamber of Ahaz, which the kings of Judah 
had made, and the altars which Manasseh had made 
in the two courts of the house of the Lord, did the 
king beat down and break them down from thence, 
and cast them into the brook Kedron.” Sometimes 
they sacrificed oxen to this god, who was very much 
known amongst them by the name of Mithra. They 
also paid a particular veneration to fire, the emblem 
of their god, invoking it first in their sacrifices, and 
carrying it before their kings in all their marches, 
intrusting the keeping of the sacred emblem which 
came down from heaven to their priests or magi, 
who would have regarded it as the greatest disaster 
which could befall them if they suffered it to expire. 
History informs us that the emperor Heraclius, when 
at war with the Persians, demolished several of their 
temples, and extinguished the sacred fire which had 
been preserved until that time, which caused great 
lamentation and mourning throughout the entire 
nation. The magi or priests were the guardians of 
all the ceremonies relating to the fire worship, and 
it was to them the people looked for instruction 
therein, and from them they derived a knowledge 
of the particular days for the worship of their gods, 
as well as the particular manner of sacrifice to be 
offered to them. As the magi were all of one tribe, 
and as none but the son of a priest could aspire to 
the honor of the priesthood, they kept all their mys- 


THE FESTIVAL AT EDEN. 


27 


tic learning, whether in religious or political matters, 
to themselves and their families. 

The great festival now being celebrated, was, as 
we have already seen, the annual festival of the Sun. 
It had commenced, and the god of the east had risen 
and blessed with his beams the opening sacrifice. 
But a more important and imposing sacrifice re- 
mained yet to be performed. The sun was mounting 
up the sky and was gradually approaching the zenith 
in his fiery car. Preparations were made for the 
great sacrifice. In another part of the grove and 
joining the mountain ridge, was constructed of stone 
a huge altar, on the near side of which was an in- 
clined plane sufficiently wide for three horses to pass 
abreast upon it. On either side of the way and 
around the summit, were placed a great quantity of 
dry wood, rendered highly inflammable by having 
been immersed in bitumen. The horses devoted to 
the sacrifice were those brought by the king of Nin- 
eveh. They were more richly attired than ever, and 
garlanded with flowers they were led forth by the 
masfi and harnessed to a chariot of cedar the most 
elaborately carved, and inlaid with gold, silver, and 
precious stones. While these preparations were 
going on, interesting as was the scene, there was 
another subject which absorbed the thoughts of the 
assembled thousands, and that was the appearance 
of the chosen one of the Sun who should guide the 
horses and chariot of fire. In secret conclave the 


28 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


magi had made the selection from among the young 
priests, and Abram was the chosen one. 

The hour arrived. Every eye was turned in the 
direction of the mystic circle, and soon was seen 
issuing therefrom a solemn procession, headed by 
the priests, who heralded the way for the approach 
of the young astrologer. He was clad in scarlet, 
with a crown upon his head, on the golden bands of 
which were represented the transit of a star over the 
blazing disc of the sun. Calm and thoughtful, but 
with firm and steady step, he ascended the chariot 
and took the reins of the fiery steeds who were 
prancing to be gone. The faggots were kindled on 
the altar, and the smoke and flames rose up the side 
of the mountain. Hemmed in by the living ram- 
parts on either side, the horses dashed furiously up 
the ascent of the burning altar, and soon were lost 
to sight amid the flames which fiercely flashed 
around. The horses passed through the fire, but ere 
they reached the summit of the mountain they fell 
blackened with death. Abram alone passed un- 
scathed amid the flames, and when the multitude 
beheld him returning in triumph from the fiery or- 
deal, they looked upon him as the child of the Sun, 
and there went up the shout of thousands in honor 
of his name. 


CHAPTER II. 


ROYAL FESTIVAL AT NINEVEH. 

The sacred festival at Eden was ended, the king 
and his nobles with the multitude had returned to 
Nineveh. The fire worshippers from the mountain, 
the astrologers from Persia, and the priests from Ur, 
had left the mystic circle, the sacred altar, and the 
consecrated bower, and had returned to their res- 
pective homes, more than ever impressed with a 
sense of the greatness and glory of their fire-god. 

As the young astrologer journeyed thoughtfully 
along, one of the high priests of the temple ac- 
costed him. 

Abram, my son, didst thou find peace and hap- 
piness in the sacred bower?” 

“No, father,” rejoined Abram, “ not in the sacred 
bower, nor from the sacred tree nor holy altar, nor 
yet from the bright face of the god of fire.” 

“ Whence then the radiance of thy countenance, 
which shone with such brightness on the festal day, 
and which even now is overspread with sunlight 

joy?” 

“0, holy father, I saw a form you could not see, 
whose glory outshone the sun, and in whose radiance 
the moon and stars would fade away into the dark- 


29 


30 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


ness of midnight. It was a manifestation of the 
Great Spirit, by whom the sun and moon and stars 
were made, the great first cause, himself causeless 
because unbegotten, the God over all and blessed 
forever.” . 

“Did he speak to thee, my son?” 

“Not in words of man’s speaking, holy father. 
I heard no voice ; but from that radiant glory there 
came a mysterious spirit language which my soul 
understood. 0 ! the rapture of that hour. My soul 
was filled with most ecstatic bliss, and I knew it was 
the Great Unknown who appeared to me.” 

“Ah, my son, I fear it was an optical illusion 
produced on thy fevered imagination, a mere hallu- 
cination of thy mind, caused by the fire god, who 
loves to bewilder the senses of his devout worship- 
pers. Thy deep thoughtfulness and seclusion for 
many days before the sacred festival, of which I 
have heard so much, has so wrought on thy nervous- 
ness as to exalt thy imagination beyond the range of 
sober reflection.” 

“ Nay, father, I am fully persuaded of what I 
saw, and I Itnow by direct inward consciousnes'? 
that God, the God of heaven, has appeared to me. 
The vision of the temple is realized, the star of my 
destiny has risen to go down no more forever. Joy, 
joy, forever ! What for long years I sought, with 
a devotion you well know, holy father, in the adora- 
tion of the sun and the moon, and the study of the 


ROYAL FESTIVAL AT NINEVEH. 31 

stars, has at last come to my possession. Call it a 
delusion if you may, but the happiness I sought at 
last I have found.’' 

“Will Abram forsake the gods of his fathers, 
whom all Assyria, Babylonia and Persia worship, 
to follow this strange light which has so bewildered 
his brain? Will he turn away from the holy fire 
and dash the sacred cup from his lips?” 

“ Nay, holy father, I but return to the worship of 
the one living and true God, which our fathers 
adored beyond the great flood, but whose glory was 
obscured and shut out from the sin-darkened vision 
of their descendants. This God they once knew, 
but not liking to retain his knowledge, their foolish 
imaginations became darkened and they turned 
aside to the w'orship of the creature instead of the 
Creator. The stars are but the stepping places up 
to his glorious throne, and the sun and moon but 
lamps to illumine the way.” 

“ Thus saying, thou assumest a knowledge and 
authority beyond thy years. Go, my son, and learn 
from the records of the temple that it is not given 
to youth to speak thus condemningly of the religion 
of their country and kindred, but in all subjection 
to learn obedience to the powers that be, ordained 
of the sun, and observed by all the kings, priests, 
and astroloo-ers of the realm.” 

O 

So saying, he left him, and they continued their 
journey. 


32 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


The eve^its of the last few days had filled the mind 
of the young astrologer with profound emofioiis. 
The wild and restless sea of thought had been 
calmed by a power above all the influences of the 
gods of Assyria ; even transcending the secret rites 
of the priests in the temple of Ur, or the more mys- 
terious ceremonies of the magicians in the temple 
of Belus at Babylon. The great Creator had re- 
vealed himself, and his all -pervading presence had 
filled his mind with a peace tranquil as heaven and 
boundless as eternity. 

Though he no longer gazed upon the sun and 
moon and stars as his gods, yet they never seemed 
half so lovely in his sight. He looked upon these 
bright otbs, but as the creatures of Jehovah, and 
the reflections of his wisdom and power, forming a 
bright pathway up to his glorious throne on high. 
He was no longer left to spell out darkly in the 
works of nature his uncertain destiny, for revelation 
had given him a key by which all the mysteries in 
creation and providence were unlocked, and their 
most intricate and difficult problems were solved. 
He was not left to infer his immortality from the 
fact that he had entered the mystic circle and par- 
taken of the holy cup, but he felt the new eternal 
life welling up from the deep fountains of his un- 
sealed nature, and spreading rapture through all the 
chambers of his soul. Deeply versed as he was in 
the occult sciences, the study of which he pursued 


ROYAL FESTIVAL AT NINEVEH. 33 

with passionate fondness, the change which had 
come upon him, and the deep and powerful emotion 
which it excited, was far more absorbing than the 
lore of magic or the sublime study of the stars. 
Before, he could only dimly trace the footprints of 
the great Unknown in the earth and the heavens ; 
now he realized his presence and his power, and felt 
that he lived and moved in the great source of light 
and life, concerning whom 

“ The sun itself was but his shade.” 

Before, he looked througli nature vainly hoping to 
find God ; now, he looked through God upon nature, 
and the sun and moon and stars, and the earth, he 
saw to be the work of his hands. 

Under such a happy transformation he returned 
to his 'father’s house at Ur. It was not long until 
he made Terah, for that was his father’s name, ac- 
quainted with the wonderful vision he -had at Eden. 

It is said, “ the heart knoweth its own bitterness, 
and strangers intermeddle not with its joy.” His 
father, though a priest of the temple, did not know 
[ the disquietude and anxiety which brooded over the 
mind of his dutiful and affectionate son. He had 
' frequently chided him for his unrest and the over- 
; zealous devotion which had recently characterized 
his nocturnal studies. He saw that the vigils which 
[‘ he kept were making fearful inroads upon his frame, 
all of which were read in the pale cheek and trem- 
bling hand, but he knew nothing of the anxious 

i 3 

I 


\ 


34 THE A.STllOLOGER OE CHALDEA. 

thoughts and gloomy fears that drank up his spirits. 
Deep in his own heart he hid his sorrows, wdiich, 
like a worm in the bud of a beautiful floAver, Avas 
Avorking death to his expanding hopes. Soitoav 
shuns the Avorld’s cold gaze and courts retirement, 
and as the stricken deer seeks its natwe boAver to 
bleed and die, so Abram had sought his grotto and 
spent Avhole nights in solitude and prayer. 

Noav that the nii^ht of his darkness and sorroAv 
AA^as past and the day of his joy had come, filling 
him AA'ith brighter A'isions than ever came to him in 
his happiest dreams, he Avould make others partalTe 
of his joy. 

Into that father’s anxious ear did he pour tjie tides 
of his full and joyous heart. Terah looked sad, for 
he feared that much study had deranged the mind 
of his dearest child. To avoid this dreaded result 
he had sent him aAA^ay Avith the young priests and 
astrologers to Eden, that amid the gay throng that 
Avould gather there, and the exciting scenes of the 
sacred festival of the sun, his mind might recover 
its Avonted tone, that thus restored he might be the 
same joyous youth he AV'as in other days. 

“ Why does sadness cloud my father’s broAv? 
Such happiness to thy son should not make thee 
melancholy.” 

“Ah, my son,” said the anxious parent, “if it 
Avere real happiness I could rejoice Avith thee, but I 
fear Avith priest Benonl that thou art walking in the 


ROYAL FESTIVAL AT NINEVEH. 


35 


sparks of thine own kindling, and not rejoicing 
under the inspiration of what thou callest the Great 
Spirit. Others have been smitten by the sun and 
moon, and thy strange furor may have been occa- 
sioned ill the same way. Were it so I would rejoice, 
for whom the gods of fire and light love, are often 
thus entranced.” 

The father was evidently as much a stranger to 
the elevation of mind enjoyed by the son as he was 
of the source whence it emanated, and hence could 
not enter into his feelings or partake of his joy. It 
was a new and strange development, and as there 
did not seem to be any abberration of mind in reo-ard 
to other subjects, but rather, if any thing, an in- 
creased clearness and strength of intellect, connected 
with a quietude and peace to which the father knew 
he had been a stranger for some months past, the 
whole thing was invested with a mystery which the 
aged priest and magician was unable to solve. 

To the patriarch it was a new manifestation, a 
new religion, for ever since Cain was driven from 
the face of the Lord at the place of worship on the 
east of Eden, where stood the cherubim and the 
infolding fire, had he and all his descendants turned 
to the sun, and stretching out his hands, worshipped 
God in that bright orb. So, in the days of Enos 
and Seth and Tubal Cain, did they worship the 
Great Spirit through the sun, and as the moon and 
stars were placed on high to be the regulators of the 


1 


36 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


universe, were they also worthy of being praised 
and glorified, and they built temples to the stars, 
and looked up adoringly to the host of heaven. 

To the mind of Terah, however, there was one 
thought which seemed like a forgotten dream re- 
vived by the singular experience of his son. He 
had heard of a chosen few among his ancestors of 
whom it was said they were taken into the secret 
counels of the Great Spirit, and that they refuged 
to worship the hosts of heaven. The names of 
these illustrious patriarchs were Enoch, Methuselah, 
Noah, Shem, and Eber, the former of whom had 
particularly special interviews with God, walking 
and talking with him face to face as man would hold 
converse with his fellow man, and who was finally 
carried away, soul and body, to the grand council 
of heaven. 

Ancient tradition informed him, that years after 
the translation of Enoch, the patriarch Noah and 
his family were preserved in an ark from the great 
flood which destroyed the rest of mankind. He had 
also heard of Job, a priest and prince of great wealth 
and influence in Arabia, who, in answer to those 
that called in question his integrity, said “If I be- 
held the sun when it shined or the moon walkino* in 
brightness, and my heart hath been secretly enticed, 
or my mouth hath kissed m.y hand, I should have 
denied the God that is above.” He had heard also 
of a mysterious priest who dwelt at 8alem, in the 


ROYAL FESTIVAL AT NINEVEH. 37 

land of Canaan, who was also called a prince of 
peace. While dwelling upon these reflections he 
became more than ever interested in the wonderful 
recital of his son. 

“ Can it be,” said he to himself, that God will 
appear and make himself known to mortals. Can 
the ineffable light and glory be so veiled as to be 
seen by human eyes? Surely none by searching 
can find out the Almighty ; and if any are thus fa- 
vored, it must be by divine manifestations.” 

What was hidden from the father and the aged 
priests and astrologers, and was lost amid the cor- 
ruptions of Assyrian worship, was revealed and 
restored to the son. Being unable to convince his 
father and the priests of the temple, 'of the reality 
of the wonderful revelation, Abram sought his 
wonted retirement in the grotto, and held commu- 
nion with the Father of his spirit. 

A grand festival was to be held at Nineveh, in 
honor of her proud and mighty king. Weeks were 
spent in making preparations, which were on the 
most magnificent scale. To this brilliant fete, princes 
and nobles from Babylon, with priests and astrolo- 
gers from Ur, and the magi from Ispahan, were in- 
vited. Expectation was raised to its highest pitch, 
and all anticipated the rarest enjoyment. 

The invitation extended to the astrologers of Ur 
would of course include the young and gifted Abram, 
and he contemplated the visit with no ordinary de- 


38 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


gree of pleasure, as it would afford him not only an 
opportunity to see the vast metropolis of Assyria, 
and furnish him an occasion for becoming acquainted 
with its astrologers, but the hope was strongly in- 
dulged that perchance he might meet the idol of his 
heart, his beloved Sarai, to whom he had already 
plighted his vows, and whom at Eden he had prom- 
ised to visit whenever opportunity should present. 

The journey was to be accomplished by water, 
and boats were prepared for that purpose. Every 
thing being in readiness, and the time having arrived, 
the party embarked, and the fleet being loosed from 
its moorings at the quay, gently glided down the 
Tigris. 

The scenery along the banks, always beautiful, 
presented at this season of the year a peculiarly 
attractive appearance. The valley on either side, 
spread out in gentle undulations, was covered with 
plants and flowers of every hue. The grass and 
shrubs which skirted the margin of the river down 
to the water’s edge, made the stream appear in its 
meanderings to flow through beds of living green. 
On the west, far over the magnificent plains of 
Mesopotamia, the dim outlines of the huge tower of 
Belus, with its astronomical observatory, surmounted 
by the colossol silver statue of Jupiter Ammon, 
could be seen as it were sculptured on the deep blue 
of the sky. On the east rose the lofty summits of 
the Tiyari, covered with trees and herbage. 


HOYAL FESTIVAL AT NINEVEH. 




The sight of the observatory at Babylon occa- 
sioned a lengthy discussion among the astrologers 
and priests in regard to the recent discovery which 
had been made in the planetary world. The chief 
astrologer of Babylon had discovered a new star, 
which possessed a form and shone with a dazzling 
brilliancy different from any which had been found 
in the astrological annals. It assumed ever and 
anon mysterious forms, now radiating an intense 
brightness, and then, as if unable to support its 
splendor, fading away until its light was like that 
of another star. An account of it had been written 
out and sent to the king and the various astrologers 
in Babylonia and Chaldea, but as yet none were able 
to give it a name, or decypher its meaning. It 
seemed to have taken the place of the lost Pleiad, 
one of the holy seven. 

While engaged in these speculations the time 
passed quickly and pleasantly away, and the boats 
neared the place of their destination. 

At length on the eve of the grand festival, the 
walls and towers of Nineveh appeared in view. It 
was approaching the noon of night on the second 
day after their departure from Ur, as they neared 
the gates of the proud capital which opened from 
the east and west. The lights which streamed out 
from the fifteen hundred lofty towers on the walls, 
seemed to the approaching company like a vast circle 
of burning stars hung around the city. 


40 


THE ASTKOLOGEK OF CHALDEA. 


Having followed the course of the stream to the 
western side of the city, the party left their boats 
and entered the outer gates which opened upon the 
bank of the river. Within, the city was illuminated. 
Multitudes could be seen strolling through the plea- 
sure gardens, while in many a palace as they passed 
on their way they witnessed brilliant illuminations, 
and heard the joyous shout of the gay revelefs as 
they tripped to the notes of sackbut and harp, dul- 
cimer and viol. Every heart seemed wild with joy 
at the arrival of the grand festival. 

As they approached the king’s palace, rising from 
terrace to terrace, a scene of magnificence burst 
upon their view, grand beyond description. This 
stately edifice occupied a large square in the center 
of the city. It stood on an elevated platform, and 
had two grand entrances, one on the east, looking 
out on the mountains, and the other on the west, 
overlooking the Tigris and the vast plain of Mesopo- 
tamia. The immense gateway formed by a pair of 
human headed bulls, fourteen feet long, wearing a 
lofty head dress richly ornamented with rosettes 
and edged with a fringe of feathers, opened, as we 
have already seen, to the west. The entrance form- 
ed by these colossal bulls was fifteen feet wide. It 
was paved with large slabs of limestone. To the 
right and left stretched away the walls and lofty 
towers of the city. Through this gateway a con- 
tinued stream of human life was passing. Behind 


KOi'AL FESTIVAL AT NKNEVEH. 4 i 

these colossal figures, and between the outer and 
inner face of the gateway, were two chambers 
seventy feet long and twenty-three feet wide. — 
Beyond the first gate were two others, guarded by 
human headed bulls and winged lions. After as- 
cending several terraces, by means of flights of steps 
made of immense squared stones, flanked with but- 
tresses, on which at regular intervals were colossal 
human headed lions and bulls, the party reached the 
propylaeum at the foot of a wider and more magnifi- 
cent flight, composed of alabaster slabs elaborately 
sculptured with many a curious design. On a mon- 
olith, at the base of this flight, were placed two 
immense lions whose fierce aspect, as they stood 
revealed in the light of the grand hall above, struck 
terror to the minds of those who were unaccustomed 
to gaze upon such grim colossal guards. The pro- 
pylaeum was covered with square slabs of alabaster, 
pure and white, ornamented with the most rich and 
beautiful sculptures. At the grand entrance hall, 
which was arched and supported by immense pillars, 
stood two enormous human headed sphinxes, while 
on either side in the wall were sculptured human 
headed winged lions and bulls ; next to which were 
six human figures of gigantic proportions. 

Passing the grand portal they found themselves 
in an immense hall, hundreds of feet in length and 
breadth, and rising up from columns to a great 
height. The roof was flat, and that part of it im- 


4^2 


TilK ASTKOLOGEIi oy CHALDEA. 


mediately over the center of the liall was conse- 
crated to the priests, where they kept the holy fire 
burning day and night, and oftered up their sacri- 
fices to the hosts of heaven. This place could be 
reached from the difterent entrances by a circular 
stairway. Around this hall were three others on an 
equal scale of magnificence though not of the same 
immense size. Above and adjoining these .were 
chambers spread out in every direction, amounting 
to seventy in number, the floors and walls of ■which 
were composed of alabaster, sculptured like those 
of the grand hall. The ceilings were finished with 
cedar from Lebanon, acacia wood from Horeb and 
Sinai, and fir from the Tiyari. Surrounding the 
whole immense pile were columns of white granite 
supporting, entablatures richly ornamented with 
every Assyrian device. 

In a recess formed by columns stood the throne 
of the king upon an elevated platform. This throne 
was supported by three rows of figures, one above 
the other. The wood was most richly and elabo- 
rately carved and inlaid with gold and ivory. The 
legs of the throne ended in pine shaped ornaments. 
Over the high back was thrown an embroidered robe 
of the most rare and beautiful material. The foot- 
stool was of the most elegant form, and encased 
with gold, the legs ending in lion’s paws. 

On this throne was seated the proud monarch of 
Nineveh, and around him w'ere the thousands of the 


HOYAL FESTIVAL AT NINEVEH. 43 

princes, priests and astrologers of Assyria. On 
this night he v>"a8 attired in a style of gorgeous 
magnificence. Long loose sacrificial robes of the 
richest purple, highly ornamented with crescents 
and stars of gems and gold, and edged with tassels 
and fringes, surrounded his person. On this occa- 
sion the king wore a conical shaped tiara or crown 
on his head, somewhat resembling the mitre of a 
high priest, ornamented with crescents and stars of 
gold and gems so arranged as to represent the con- 
stellations. Round his neck were hung the four 
sacred signs, the crescent, the star, the bident, and 
the horned cap. In front of the throne, on the ala- 
baster pavement, was sculptured a crescent in the 
midst of a many rayed star representing the sun and 
moon. Immediately in the rear of this was a table 
containing many sacrificial objects, and adjoining 
was the holy altar on which burned the sacred flame. 
Around this in the rear stood the priests in semi- 
circular form, arrayed in sacerdotal robes, while 
around the whole was inscribed the mystic circle. 

^ if: ^ 'I: * if: ^ 

The midnight ceremonies of the grand festival 
were being performed, and just as Abram and his 
companions took their stations around the circle, the 
high priest from a burning censer lighted the sacred 
urn upon the altar, and elevating the consecrated 
cup, blessed it, and presenting it to the king, who 
drank of its sacred contents, it was passed around 
among those within and those without the circle. 


44 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


The young astrologer from Ur did not partake of 
that cup. He had pledged faith and obedience to 
another God, and he could no more partake of an 
idolatrous sacrament than he could worship the gods 
for Avhom it Avas instituted. He had entered into 
covenant Avith the God of heaven, and he could not 
recognize the gods of Assyria as the -objects of his 
Avorship. 

There Avas one in that vast and brilliant assembly 
Avhose gaze Avas fixed upon the young astrologer from 
the time he entered the hall. In an apartment dedi- 
cated to the queen and the noble ladies of her court, 
Avhich Avas someAvhat elcA'^ated above the marble 
floor and on a level Avith the throne, sat a young and 
lovely princess, Avhose sad and thoughtful counte- 
nance indicated the deep reA’-erie of her soul. 

“ Can it be,” thought she, “ that Abram has re- 
nounced the religion of our fathers? If not, Avhy 
does he refuse the sacramental cup? But he seems 
to be troubled. A shade of sadness is on his broAv. 
Would that I kncAV his thouo-hts. 0 that I could 

O 

speak to him.” 

While thus she mused Avith eyes intently fixed on 
the subject of her thoughts, Abram cast a glance at 
the gallery, and as eye met eye in mutual recogni- 
tion, quick as the electric flash along the conducting 
medium, there Avas an intercommunion of soul. The 
mysterious affinity which bound their hearts together 
annihilated the distance betAveen them, and that Ian- 


ROYAL FESTIVAL AT NINEVEH. 


45 


giiage which is known and interpreted only by the 
spirit, at once became the medium of communication 
between those loving hearts. 

The sacramental service beino’ ended, the kinsf 
rose from his throne and presenting his scepter, 
everv head was bowed to do him reverence, while a 
shout went up from that vast assembly which rever- 
berated through the lofty dome and was echoed from 
the surrounding chambers, “ 0 king! live forever.” 
Then laying aside his scepter and touching his lips 
gently in token of silence, every voice was hushed 
and deep earnest attention sat on every countenance. 
Addressing the listening throng, he said, 

“0, princes and rulers, priests, astrologers, and 
magicians, my most worthy servants and safe-guards 
of Assyria, a new star has appeared, a new god has 
taken his throne in the heavens, outshining Orion 
and the Pleiades, and to the chief astrologer Aram, it 
seems even brighter than Venus, though far beyond 
its orbit. It doubtless heralds the approach and 
has marked the birth of some distinguished prince, 
or it may be some rival king. If any one can tell 
me the siom of this star and what it meaneth in as- 

o 

trology, his desire shall be granted even to the richest 
province of my realm.” 

It was a moment of intense interest, especially to 
every astrologer assembled there. The astrologers 
of Babylon, from the depths of whose astronomical 
well the star had been discovered, had searched all 


46 THE ASTROLOUEll Of’ CHALDEA. 

the records in the temple of Belus, but, as before 
remarked, unable to solve the mystery of the strange 
appearance of the wonderful star, were dumb. The 
eastern magi, whose deep astrological researches 
caused them to vie with the astrologers of Assyria, 
and the astrologers of Nineveh who had searched 
the chambers of record and had uifTolled all the 
annals of antiquity, were alike unable to give a 
satisfactory answer to the king. 

Abram had been to Babylon, and from the well 
and observatory of the temple had gazed upon the 
mysterious orb. His intense devotion to the study 
of the science had secured for him a name and a 
fame as an astrologer which extended beyond the 
circle of astronomers attached to the observatory in 
his native city, and no sooner had Aram discovered 
the celestial visitant than he sent for the youthful 
astrologer. He was therefore perfectly aware of the 
interest its appearance had excited among all classes, 
and from what he had learned, knew that it would 
claim the attention of the king and court of Nineveh 
at the festival. To him the star bore a greater re- 
semblance to the blazing fire on the summit of the 
temple of Ur, than to the soft luminous rays which 
radiated from the other stars in the heavens. As 
the result of his observations he came to the con- 
clusion that it was not a new star, but from its posi- 
tion, must be one belonging to the constellation in 
which it was discovered, and that it only assumed a 


ROYAL FESTIVAL AT NINEVEH. 


47 


new appearance by mysteriously robing itself in 
garments of fire. The meaning of this he could 
only conjecture or explain by the hypothesis that it 
was a star of some proud monarch’s destiny, and its 
conflagration and consequent final extinction indi- 
cated the fate of a king and his empire. 

There, before the king and astrologers, were the 
astronomical tables and legends of Babylon. The 
astronomical records of Persia were also introduced, 
embracing the researches made in India and China. 
Before the king were the ancient annals of Nineveh, 
but in none of them was to be found an answer or a 
clue to the solution of the royal question. All 
acknowledged their inability to unravel the mystery 
connected with the strange and wonderful star. 

At this crisis Abram gently advanced, and bow- 
ing courteously to the king, said in a tremulous 
voice, “ 0 king, live forever ! To me it is given to 
answer thy question. The star is not a strange 
messenger heralding the birth of a king or the inva- 
sion of a rival, but a star of destiny, whose fiery 
glare is a sign of desolation and final ruin. It is 
the Mene, Mene, Tekel, of some doomed monarch 
and his empire.” 

At this announcement the eyes of the king, which 
until now had been riveted on the prophet-astrologer, 
grew dim and glassy, his head fell upon his shoulder, 
his hands trembled, and a shudder passed over his 
whole frame. 


48 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


After his emotion had somewhat subsided, he rose 
from his throne, and extending his scepter to Abram, 
exclaimed, 

‘‘ 0 princes, rulers, astrologers, and magicians, I 
do now decree that Abram be constituted, by royal 
authority, the chief astrologer of my realm, inas- 
much as he hath a wiser spirit than ye all.” 

Then said he to Abram, “ Ask, my son, what thou 
wilt and it shall be given to thee, even to the half 
of my kingdom. The gods have given thee wisdom 
above thy years, and thou shalt have whatsoever 
thou dost desire.” 

Every eye was now turned upon the young astrol- 
oger of Ur, and as the Archimaafus or Grand Master 
of Babylon advanced and delivered the jewels of his 
office to the king, who placed them with his own 
hands upon the person of Abram, every one in that 
brilliant assemblage did him homage, while the as- 
trologers and magicians paid grand honors to their 

newlv invested chief. When the ceremonies of in- 

*/ 

stallation were ended, the prophet-astrologer turned 
with joyous and thankful heart, and approached the 
young and beautiful jDrincess who stood among the 
nobility of her sex a deeply interested spectator of 
the scene. 

She was, as we have already remarked, a blue 
eyed maiden, of unusual beauty and symmetry of 
form. Often did the young astrologers and priests 
of her native city, Ur, gaze upon her as she would 


KOYAL FESTIVAL AT NINEVEH. 49 

glide to and from her bower at eve beneath the sil- 
ver light of the moon, to worship the hosts of hea - 
ven ; or at early morn, as with fixed and steady eye 
she would watch the rising of the god of fire as his 
beams would first kiss the distant mountains. 

She was now away from her loved home, but happy 
memories of other days ceased not to awaken the 
most pleasant associations. As a princess, she was 
arrayed in a style of magnificence suited to her 
rank. A rich robe of crimson elaborately decorated 
with gems, hung gracefully over her well rounded 
shoulders. Dark glossy tresses fell in curls on her 
inclined neck of snowy whiteness. On her head was 
a turban of the richest silk, in the center of which 
was a gold star radiated with diamonds. To the 
youthful astrologer she was a prize more valuable 
than all the wealth and power and glory of Assyria. 
Every eye was fixed upon the now young prince and 
princess, and as Abram took her by the hand and 
led her to the mystic circle, in front of the throne, 
every heart partook of the general joy. Presenting 
her to the king, he said with a voice tremulous with 
emotion, “ 0, king, I accept thy generous offer. I 
ask not to be the ruler of a realm ; I ask not wealth 
nor power ; but I ask, as the betrothed of my heart, 
she who stands before you, my loved and long lost 
Sarai.’^ 

“ Thy desire is granted,” said the king, and rising 
from his throne and joining their hands, he pro- 


4 


50 THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 

nounced them husband and wife, in the name of the 
sun. Then embracing and kissing them, he added. 

On Abram and Sarai may the gods of Assyria 
shed their mildest rays. May the stars of their des- 
tiny never grow dim or expire. 

Though the king was evidently troubled, as the 
interpretation of Abram augured no good to his des- 
tiny and that of his empire, yet he ordered music 
and dancing. Flowers were strewn in thick profu- 
sion by fair hands, on the tesselated floor in front of 
the happy pair as they walked arm in arm among the 
joyous throng to receive their greetings. The sa- 
cred dance, — for all the amusements of the Assy- 
rians partook of a religious character, — then began, 
and all partook of the general joy, which ceased not 
to reverberate through the halls of the palace until 
the rising of the god of fire ended the roval festival. 


CHAPTER III. 


THE TEMPLE AT BABYLON'. 

The ancient city of Babylon was located on the 
plain of Shinar on the eastern and western banks of 
the Euphrates. It was laid out on a magnificent 
scale, the streets crossing each other at right angles, 
and the river running through the center. The city 
on each side of the river was enclosed by a high 
wall, fifteen miles in length, making the entire cir- 
cuit of the city about sixty miles of continuous 
wall. These walls were of the enormous thickness 
of eighty -seven feet, rising up to a height of three 
hundred feet. They were pierced at regular inter- 
vals by a hundred gates of solid brass, each one of 
which was guarded by towers erected on the walls 
surmounting the gates. The wide straight streets 
extended through the city on a line with the gates. 
These streets divided Babylon into seventy-six 
squares, each of which was two miles and a quarter 
in circumference. These squares constituted sepa- 
rate villas, many of which were used as parks or 
pleasure gardens, filled with trees and flowers. The 
king’s palace was erected on both sides of the river, 
the separate apartments of which were connected 
by a bridge. One portion of the palace next to the 

51 


52 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


temple of Belus^ was on the west side of the river. 
This was first erected, and denominated the old 
palace ; the new was on the opposite side of the 
river, the enclosure and pleasure grounds of which 
covered a space of eight or ten miles. In after 
years, this enclosure, history informs us was deco^ 
rated with hanging gardens supported by voluted 
pillars with elaborately carved capitals, rising from 
terrace to terrace, higher than the walls of the cit3^ 

The temple of Belus, at Babylon, was situated on 
the eastern bank of the river Euphrates. This tem- 
ple occupied a square a quarter of a mile in extent, 
in the center of which rose a tower six hundred feet 
in height. The tower was pyramidal, and divided 
at regular intervals into eight separate towers, rising 
successively one above another, decreasing in dimen- 
sions to the summit, where there was an oratory 
containing a couch, table, and other articles, all of 
pure gold. Here the principal devotions were per- 
formed. Immediately over this, on the highest 
platform of all, was the astronomical observatory 
by means of which, and the astronomical well ad- 
joining the tower at its base, and connected with 
it by an underground passage, the astrologers ar- 
rived at such perfection in the science, that astro- 
nomical observations were kept dating back to within 
one hundred years of the flood. 

On the summit of the topmost tower were three 
golden statues representing the celestial deities. 


THE TEMPLE AT BABYLON. 


63 


Jupiter, Juno, and Rhea. These statues were all of 
colossal proportions, that of Jupiter being forty feet 
high. Juno was represented as seated on a golden 
throne, with lions at each knee, and two enormous 
serpents of silver. The statue of Rhea was on the 
left side of Jupiter. She was represented as grasp- 
ing a serpent in her right hand, and a scepter en- 
riched with gems in her left. Accompanying these 
statues AYas a table of Avrought gold, forty feet long 
and fifteen wide, on Avhich Avere goblets and vases 
of the most massy and elaborate workmanship. The 
temple Avas filled with immense treasures, the Avealth 
of kings and conquered countries, and little did 
Abram think as he entered Avith his beloved Sarai 
the palace allotted to the chief astrologer, that the 
time Avould come when his descendants would be 
captives in Babylon, and their most sacred treasures 
would be deposited in that very temple consecrated 
to idolatrous gods. 

He came not, hoAvever, to Babylon as a priest, but 
as an astrologer, and his relation to the king and 
court of Nineveh, of Avhich Babylon was then a 
province, Nineveh being the metropolitan city of the 
Assyrian empire, A\ms not such as to require of him 
either the acknoAvledgment or Avorship of the gods. 
He came Avith his young and beautiful princess to 
enter upon his duties as chief astrologer in the tem- 
ple of Belus, not as a worshipper of the sun or moon, 
or stars, or Jupiter, Juno, or Rhea, but as a Avor- 


54 THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 

shipper of the God of heaven, of him who made the 
sun and moon and seven stars, and Orion and his 
wife had already embraced the same faith and wor- 
ship, and was illumined with the same holy light, 
and felt the same mysterious all-pervading power. 

We have not omitted the incidents connected 
with his return from Nineveh to Ur, and the intense 
excitement produced by his exaltation to the high 
post of honor conferred upon him, among his kindred 
and the citizens of his native place, because there 
was nothing that would be interesting in the narra- 
tive, — far from it, but we have omitted their narra- 
tion as we must many other things possessing 
equally thrilling interest and importance, though 
not essential to our history. 

Scarcely had the astrologer taken possession of 
his new home until another remarkable event oc- 
curred in the history of his life, destined in its 
results to have a more wonderful effect upon him 
than any other occurrence connected with his most 
eventful life. As the shadows of evening were 
gathering around the city, and the stars one by one 
were making their appearance in the sky, Abram 
and Sarai ascended the tower, and reaching the ora- 
tory, they prepared to engage in their evening devo- 
tions. They were far above the din and roar of the 
city, which stretched beyond the temple area on 
either side for miles up and down, on both sides of 
the river. The Euphrates reflected the light of the 


THE TEMPLE AT BABYLON. 


56 


stare from its unruffled bosom, and the vast reser- 
voir beyond the walls seemed to the spectator like a 
field of stars, so faithfully were the celestial orbs 
mirrored in its waters. On the summit of that lofty 
tower rose the mighty statue of Jupiter, glistening 
in the rays of the moon. 

“ How beautiful !” said Sarai, as she leaned 
against the balcony and gazed upon the scene. 

“ Most beautiful,” replied Abram thoughtfully. 
“ Yonder moon, walking majestically among the 
glittering orbs that deck the brow of night, fitly 
represents the milder glory of Him who is brighter 
and greater than the sun shining in his strength, 
or the moon walking in her brightness and beauty, 
and serves to lead the thoughts of man at evening 
hour up to his glorious throne. Let us bow and 
bless that God who hath formed all these bright 
creations as exhibitions of his eternal power.” 

So saying, the happy pair prostrated themselves 
before the God of heaven. From those pious hearts, 
strongly united by sympathy, there rose a deep and 
ardent devotion, and a strong faith, lively gratitude, 
fervent love, and ardent hope, all-pervading and 
powerful, took possession of their souls. Thus 
absorbed, their spirits rose to high and glorious 
sympathy with the divine mind, and they held 
communion with the invisible One. The divine 
glory came over them, and there appeared the same 
manifestation that fell upon the vision of Abram in 


56 THE ASTKOLOOEK OF CHALDEA. 

Eden. While thus entranced, a voice, soft and low 
as the breath of summer, was heard saying, “Arise, 
this is not your rest, and go to a land of which I 
will tell you.” Abram was startled. It was the 
first time the divine voice had fallen upon his ear. 
But he was not alarmed. That voice fell upon an 
ear already attuned to the language* of heaven. 
Those words came to a heart full of faith and obe- 
dience to God, and when they rose from the altar, a 
calm celestial resignation to the divine will might 
have been seen upon their countenances, indicating 
the response of their hearts. 

The revelation was clear, so clear and definite that 
it left no doubt whatever on the mind of Abram that 
he was to leave his post of honor, his much loved 
pursuit, his palace, and more than all. his kindred 
and friends and native country, and all the associa- 
tions of his early life, and start out upon a pilgrim- 
age to him unknown. 

But was he to wander alone as an exile from 
kindred and country and friends? No, not alone, 
God said “ I will go with thee and give thee rest.” 
And Sarai too, for they twain were one, would ac- 
company him. No sooner did the faithful Abram 
respond to the voice of God than his young and 
beauteous wife, all radiant Avith smiles, embracing 
him, said, “ Avhither thou goest I Avill go, even to 
the ends of the earth.” 

After remaining a few days at Babylon, Abram 


THE TEMPLE AT BABYLON. 


57 


returned to Ur, and communicated to his father and 
kinsmen the divine command. Terah had embraced 
the religion of his son. Nahor and Haran had also 
become proselytes to the new faith. Terah was now 
two hundred years old, and was resignedly awaiting 
his departure to the home of the blest as the evening 
shades of life were gathering around him. No 
sooner, however, did he hear of the faith of his 
children and their divinely appointed destiny, than 
he resolved to accompany them. It was a heavenly 
mission, and he knew that it would have the divine 
protection. He had made the God of his children 
his own God. He had abandoned the star and lire 
worship of Chaldea for a purer, simpler faith. En- 
feebled with age as he was, he did not hesitate to 
start upon the long and weary journey, and with 
staff in hand nerved by a new power, he started out 
with Abram and Sarai for the land of promise. 

Crossing the Tigris, and giving themselves up to 
divine direction, they traveled in a north -east wardly 
course until they reached the mountain I'ange. — 
Worn down with fatigue and toil, Terah was at 
length compelled to cease traveling, and after having 
reached a beautiful valley in Armenia they pitched 
their tents and called a halt until Providence should 
further open their way. They had traveled a dis- 
tance of three hundred and seventy-six miles, and 
were weary of the journey. 

In that little band there was a promising youth, 


68 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


who, having embraced the same faith, had resolved 
on undertaking the same pilgrimage. He was a 
brother’s son of Abram, and though much younger, 
was of kindred spirit, and devotedly attached to his 
uncle. For the sake of his religion he was willing 
to leave father and mother and his youthful asso- 
ciates, and travel with the chosen few to the land of 
promise. His name was Lot. 

In the place where they had stopped on account 
of the infirmities of Terah, Abram and his nephew 
commenced the erection of a village which was 

O 

called by them Haran, in honor of Lot’s father. It 
was a lovely spot. Nature had here lavished her 
gifts, and with a profuse hand had scattered bless- 
ings all around. As the blessing of God was upon 
Abram and his companions, every enterprize in 
which they engaged prospered. The little band 
was increased by additions from their fellow coun- 
trymen, for they were still in Mesopotamia, and had 
not passed beyond the boundaries of their native 
land. They bestowed great attention to the culti- 
vation of the soil, which produced spontaneously 
the most odoriferous vines, and it was not many 
years until they had immense vineyards and vast 
herds and flocks of cattle and sheep which grazed 
on the rich pastures which nature had so bountifully 
provided. 

An event calculated to fill the mind with melan- 
choly, and which broke in fearfully upon the happi- 


THE TEMPLE AT BABYLON. 


69 


ness of the peaceful village of Haran, occurred. 
The aged patriarch, Terah, whose increasing feeble- 
ness caused Abram to stop in his unknown journey, 
an event which resulted in the foundation of a city 
and the accumulation of a large amount of property, 
was called to die. He was well stricken in years. 
The toils of upwards of two centuries had worn him 
down to the grave, and calling around him his be- 
loved Abram and Sarai, and pronouncing upon them 
his blessing, he gathered up his feet and departed in 
peace to his fathers. The hands of affection closed 
his eyes, and followed by those who loved him in 
life, and in death did not forsake him, together with 
a large train of weeping villagers, the patriarch of 
Haran was borne to the tomb. 

It was a sad day to Abram and Sarai and Lot, 
who with his newly married companion, deeply 
mourned his loss. The first grave opened in Haran, 
it was baptized with many tears, and often at even- 
tide would Abram and Sarai wander there to weep 
and pray over the tomb of buried affection. Once, 
while pouring out their hearts to God at that rural 
spot, the divine glory again overshadowed them as 
on the summit of Belus, and a voice came to them, 
saying, “ Get thee out of thy country, and from thy 
kindred, and from thy father’s house, into a land 
that I will show thee, and I will make of thee a 
great nation, and I will bless thee and make thy 
name great, and thou shalt be a blessing, and I will 


60 THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA, 

bless them that bless thee, and curse him that 
curseth thee, and in thee shall all the families of 
the earth be blessed.” It was the same divine 
voice whose directions they had followed, and which 
had led th'em to Haran, and hence it took them no 
time to consult in regard to obeying the command. 
Preparations were immediately made for another 
unknown journey, and a few days, in which they 
gathered together their flocks and herds and trea- 
sures, witnessed their departure, with Lot and his 
wife, and those who had renounced idolatry and 
embraced the true religion. Though they had laid 
the foundations of a city, and in the course of 
fourteen years procured for themselves every thing 
necessary to make home happy, and though last not 
least, Haran contained the sacred relics of their 
venerated father, they were ready to make any sacri- 
fices, leaving all the endearments of home, with 
their fruitful vineyards and smiling gardens, for the 
deep shadows of an untrodden Avilderness. 

Their route lay towards Canaan, and after many 
days of Aveary travel over rugged mountains, 
through deep and dangerous ravines and sandy 
deserts, they at length reach the borders of the 
promised land, and Anally enter the beautiful vale 
of Shechem, spread out betAA^een the mountains of 
Ebal and Gerezim, where they encamped and erected 
an altar to the Avorship of God. Nothing could be 
more loA’^ely than this capacious A^alley, extending 


THE TEMPLE AT BABYLON. 


61 


as it did for a long distance between the mountains 
of Ebal and Gerezim, which rose on either side to 
the height of eight hundred feet, thickly covered 
with groves of olive and fig trees, while the rocks 
were festooned with vines and flowers of every hue, 
between which natural fountains threw out their 
sparkling Avaters, imparting a refreshing coolness to 
the scene. Nothing could be more inviting. Here 
the heaven-directed travelers, after having journeyed 
four hundred miles, ended their pilgrimage and took 
up their abode. 

Again the Lord appeared unto Abram. While 
engaged in eA^ening devotions, and the smoke of the 
sacrifice Avent curling up from the altar as a pure 
incense to heaven, the Shekinah again enA^eloped 
the worshippers, and the divine voice said, “ Unto 
thy seed Avill I give this land.’" 

Abram Avas childless. Year after year had come 
and crone since he took his beloved Sarai to his 
bosom, but the boon for Avhich both had sighed, 
and the Avithholding of Avhich in those days was 
considered as a curse, came not to gladden their 
hearts and light their eyes. To Avrite a man child- 
less in patriarchal times Avas but to complete the 
sum of his misery. It was to make him as a lone 
tree in a dreary desert, branchless, leafless, sapless. 
But this revelation inspired hope, and the faithful 
Abram believed God, and rejoiced in the prospect 
of its fulfilment. It Avas a promise involving the 


62 THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 

existence and destiny of a nation, numerous as the 
stars of heaven. That same valley and those tow- 
ering mountains were to be covered and darkened 
by twelve tribes and their twelve times twelve 
thousand that should spring from his loins, and every 
ear which should hear the comnjandments of his 
God. That very valley where he offered up his 
sacrifices as typical of a coming Savior, whom he 
already beheld by faith in the dim vista of the future, 
was to be made sacred by his presence. His feet 
were to tread the same green spot, and his lips to 
taste of the same cooling waters. The faith of 
Abram saw all nations of the earth blessed in the 
promised Messiah, for though 

“Impervious shadows hide 
The mysteries of heaven. 

Yet where all knowledge is denied 
To faith ’tis given.’* 

And his faith brought to him not only the knowl- 
edge of redemption’s scheme, but secured for him 
all its spiritual and eternal blessings. Centuries 
upon centuries were to pass away, sacred bards 
were to live and sing of the Messiah, mighty kings 
and priests were to wait for his advent, and all na- 
tions were to desire his coming ; but the prophet 
would drop his harp, the king lay down his crown, 
and the priest his mitre, and the nations die ere the 
fulness of time should come, while faith annihilated 


THE TEMPLE AT BABYLON. 


63 


all distance of time and space, and brought to 
Abram’s vision the Glorious One. 

Northward from the valley of Shechim, a distance 
of twenty -eight miles, spread out the broad plain of 
Mamre, between Bethel and Ai. It was a wild ro- 
mantic region, covered with lofty oaks, and though 
less fertile and beautiful than the valley of Moreh 
Avliere the chosen few had taken up their abode, still it 
was in the land which God had promised to Abram ; 
and as the whole country was before him where to 
choose, with Providence his guide, from some cause 
which the sacred historian has wisely concealed, 
the holy family emigrated thither, taking with 
them their numerous servants, with their flocks 
and herds. 

It might have been that such a place was not fa* 
vorable to devotion. The Canaanite was still in 
the land, and encroachments from these idolaters 
might have rendered it necessary for the peaceful 
Abram to remove to a less favored but still more 
secluded spot. Or it might have been that the 
valley was not sufficiently broad and extensive for 
the already large and accumulating families of 
Abram and Lot, with their vast possessions of ser- 
vants and cattle. Or what is perhaps the more 
plausible conjecture, the same divine voice which 
had called him from Babylon and directed him in 
his journeyings to Canaan, had summoned him to 
the highlands of Mamre. 


b4 THE ASTKOLOGEK OF OHALOEA. 

Notwithstanding his removal from the vale of 
Shechem and plains of Moreh, to the more rugged 
lieights of Mamre, yet he realized that He who had 
called him from Chaldea would give him in due 
time all the land of Palestine, and though the pros- 
pect and promise would have chilled the heart of 
others of less faith, and caused them to stagger with 
unbelief in regard to their fullilment and realization, 
his faith stood like a pillar of light amid the sur- 
rounding darkness j penetrating the gloom and kind- 
ling the future with a radiance all- inspiring to hope. 

Though the woody highlands afforded a wide 
range for the cattle, yet the soil was of too rough, 
rocky and sterile a character to yield a sufficient 
pasturage, and the families found it necessary to 
follow the indications of Providence and seek a more 
fertile spot. Their flocks and herds, under the di- 
vine blessing, had increased astonishingly, dotting 
the surrounding plains and darkening the encircling 
hills, and as it was necessary for their support that 
a more propitious region should be found, Abram 
and Lot struck their tents and journeyed south until 
they came to a section of country ofl’ering every 
inducement for their sojourn. 

Here they pitched their tents, erected their altar, 
and offered up . sacrifices and praises to the God of 
their mercies, whose providence had presided in 
such a wonderful manner over their jourueyings 
since leaving the land of their nativity. Their toil 


THE TEMPLE AT EABTLON. 


65 


in tlie fields soon began to yield its fruit, and a rich 
harvest of plenty crowned their labors. The moun- 
tain, valley, and plain, which presented their diver- 
sified scenery to their enchanted eyes, tilled their 
hearts with new and increased emotions of gratitude 
to the Giver of all good. As they would wander 
among the bowers, and at noontide rest beneath the 
feathery palm and wide -spreading olive, or at even, 
when the stars would look out clear and beautiful 
from their native heavens, they would gather around 
the sacred altar and offer the evening sacrifice, a 
holy joy would fill their hearts as the object of their 
worship would encircle them in a halo of glory, and 
from his radiant throne hold communion with their 
spirits. 

To Abram there was a joy added to all the com- 
munings of his spirit with his God, and the great 
prosperity which attended him, only less than the 
first as a cause of happiness, and vastly greater 
than all the rest. It was the love of his affectionate 
wife. For though he had immense possessions, 
numerous relations, and a host of attendants and 
servants, there was nothing like his beloved Sarai, 
and no eye greeted him with half the affection of 
her mild blue orbs, nor did any voice sound so 
sweet as hers. When they would walk together at 
even, arm in arm, with true oriental simplicity, and 
gaze upon the moon w'alking in brightness over the 
bright pathwav of stars, and ..call to remembrance 


66 


THE ASTROLOOER OF CHALDEA. 


their past devotions when they vainly imagined that 
these bright orbs of night were their gods, and con- 
trasted the doubt and uncertainty which filled their 
minds, with their present consciousness of hope and 
joy derived from the worship of their Creator, they 
were filled with ecstatic bliss, and would break forth 
in songs of praise to the God of heaven. 

Sarai was a true wife, making home happy by her 
presence and her smiles, a very earthly paradise 
where the curse of strife never was permitted to 
enter. In her peaceful tent the pilgrim forgot his 
toil and exile, and was made to reap the full enjoy- 
ment of the present, while he was inspired with hope 
in the divine promise for the future. All around 
smiled an Eden of peace and joy, while above them 
was a col'e?^a?^^keeping God, and over them his pro- 
tecting care. 

But life has its varieties as nature has her seasons, 
her storms, and sunshine. The morning sun may 
gild a cloudless sky, but ere noon it may be over- 
cast with dark and lowering clouds. The cheerful 
day may be succeeded by a cheerless, gloomy night ; 
and thus it was with the happy dwellers in the peace- 
ful vales of Canaan. For a season, at least, their 
earthly happiness must be broken in upon, and their 
temporal resources must be in a measure exhausted, 
if for nothing else than to teach the dwellers of earth 
that this is not their home, but that at best they are 
strangers and pilgrims in quest of a country beyond 


THE TEMPLE AT BABYLON. 


67 


the skies, and that God only can satisfy the soul, 
wliile it is from His hand all temporal blessings flow. 
What profit are extensive flocks and herds if the 
pastures be dry? Of what avail are the olive, the 
fig, and the vine, dotting the plains and spreading 
over the surrounding hills, if the rains descend not 
to water the earth? What are all the luxuries of 
the most charming and beautiful home if they are 
soon to exist only in painful contrast with the most 
sudden and utter desolation? What are the flowers 
which bloom with such fragrance to-day, if we must 
see them all scattered and withered to-morrow? 
What are all the bright and beautiful pictures of 
human happiness, if we must soon weep over them 
like departed joys which never can return? 

Such was to be the lot of the pilgrims of Pales- 
tine, so far as their happiness was derived from the 
earthly objects by which they were surrounded. 
They were destined to experience the sad reverse of 
fortune and suffer the pinching hand of a desolating 
famine to grasp them in its bony fingers. The clouds 
gave no rain, and the earth yielded no moisture. 
The grass withered beneath the scorching rays of 
the sun, and the rich fruits faded away from the 
field. 

But God left not his chosen ones to perish. He 
“ who guides Arcturus with his suns,” in their 
pathway through the heavens, and upholds all things 
by the word of his power, directing and controling 


68 THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 

all events, in whose hands are the destinies of na- 
tions, could not if he would and would not if he 
could, so wise and good and kind is he in all his 
dealings, forsake those who put their trust in Him. 
Such an idea would not only be preposterous, but 
blasphemous in the extreme. He had called Abram 
from his country and kindred to enter upon a mission, 
the object of which was to work out a glorious des- 
tiny for a race which was to be numerous as the 
stars of heaven for multitude, and the covenant 
which he entered into with that faithful agent of his 
purposes, he intended to ratify before the world. 

The seeming obscuration of hope in the darkness 
which Avas permitted to enA^elop his condition, was 
designed only as an additional test of a faith which 
had already been tried and found to be as the pure 
gold Avhich passes through the fire. His trial was 
only to be as the night of gloom Avhich precedes the 
bright and cheerful morning over Avhich no cloud 
should cast a shade. It was to develop a greater 
moral strength and heroism in a soul already nerved 
up to deeds of bold and lofty daring, enabling it to 
grapple successfully Avith opposing obstacles and 
come out a triumphant victor, croAvned with the 
achievements its own integrity and energy had se- 
cured. 

Many, under such circumstances, would have 
given themselves up to despair, and considered all 
as lost. Not so with Abram. Though he was 


THE TEMPLE AT BABYLON. 


69 


aware of the fact that the whole land of Palestine 
was thus withering under a drought that had ex- 
hausted every green thing, and though he was con- 
scious of the fact that soon his resources would be 
exhausted by the constant drain upon them which 
his hospitality and benevolence opened for the des- 
titute in the surrounding country, yet he did not 
yield to despondency, or for a moment lose confi- 
dence in the ever acting providence of God. 


CHAPTER IV. 


COURT OF EGYPT. 

Abram’s knowledge of the country and climate 
of the East convinced him that the famine was 
general, and that no district dependent upon the 
rains for the productions of the soil, would afford 
supplies for his large and rapidly increasing family. 
To obtain these he must journey to another land. 

In a southwesterly direction, two hundred and forty 
miles distant, was the country of Ham, the fertility 
of whose soil was produced by the annual inundation 
of a river which took its rise in the mountains of 
Ethiopia. This country was bounded on the north 
by the Great Sea, on the east by the river El Arish 
on the borders of Palestine and the Syrian or Ara- 
bian desert, which extends from the sea to the gulf 
of Suez, and from thence southward by the western 
coast of the Red Sea, and on the west by the Lybian 
desert. From the earliest ages its boundaries to the 
south had been fixed by the cataracts of Syene, 
which are formed by a number of granite rocks that 
stretch across the bed of the Is^ile, and over which 
that river rolled its foaming waters. The length of 
Egypt, from the mouth of its great river to the cata- 
racts, the border of Nubia under the tropic of Can- 

70 


COURT OF EGYPT. 


71 


.jer, was about five hundred miles. The valley of 
\he river was narrow, the distance from mountain 
',0 mountain being only about seven miles. 

The country of Egypt had attained a higher de- 
gree of civilization and refinement than even Assyria, 
the land of Abram. It was the seat of royal govern- 
ment, and the arts and sciences were carried to a 
greater extent of perfection than at Nineveh and 
Babylon. Besides, it was the granary of the world, 
possessing greater resources for the supply of its 
population than any other land. The peculiar fer-, 
tility of its soil depending, as we have already stated, 
upon the inundation of the waters of the Nile : though 
no rain should fall on Egypt for a year, or a succes- 
sion of years, yet the fields would yield their wonted 
supply. The various branches of the Nile have 
their rise in the mountains north of the equator, 
and flowing through Abyssinia and other regions 
westward of it, meet in the country of Sennaar. 
The united stream flows then in a northwesterly 
direction through Nubia and Egypt, and after a 
course of nearly two thousand miles from the far- 
thest explored point, enters the Mediterranean by 
several mouths, which forms the Delta of Egypt. 
In a distance of one thousand three hundred miles 
from the mouth of the Lacazze to the Delta, the 
Nile does not receive a single tributary stream, 
which in the language of one, forms a solitary in- 
stance in the hydrographic history of the globe. 


72 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


The ancients assigned many reasons for the rise of 
the waters of the Nile. To see the river rise and 
swell beyond its banks without a drop of rain, or 
any visible cause whatever, would necessarily excite 
many conjectures. They knew not that the vapors 
exhaled by the sun from the Mediterranean were 
carried to the mountains of Ethiopia, and there 
condensing, came down in copious showers, swelling 
the river to such an extent that, first Ethiopia and 
then Egypt, were overflowed, and the majestic river 
became a sea and spread abroad its blessings over 
the face of the surrounding country. 

There cannot be a more magnificent sight than 
that which Egypt presents at two seasons of the 
year. In the months of July and August the whole 
valley is covered with water from mountain to moun- 
tain. In the midst of this sea numerous towns and 
villages appear, with several causeways leading from 
place to place, the whole interspersed with groves 
of orange and lemon trees, whose tops only are visi- 
ble. This view is bounded by mountain ranges and 
woods, which terminate at the utmost distance the 
eye can discover, the most beautiful horizon that 
can be imagined. In the months of January and 
February the whole country is like one continued 
scene of beautiful meadows, whose verdure, enam- 
eled with flowers, charms the eye. The air is per' 
fumed with the orange, lemon, and other blossoms, 
heightening, if possible, the enchantment of the 
scene. 


COURT OJ5' EGYPT. 


73 


The Nile being the source of Egypt’s prosperity, 
the inhabitants were to look upon it as the giver 
of all good, and hence they paid it divine honors. 
The priests of Egypt affirmed that Pheron, the son 
of Sesostris, one of their kings, was struck blind by 
the river god, for an act of impiety. At a certain 
time when the river had risen to the extraordinary 
height of twenty-seven feet, a violent storm of wind 
arose which greatly agitated the waters, the king, 
with a foolish temerity, took a javelin in his hand 
and cast it into the midst of the foaming waters, 
and for this act was struck with blindness. 

The principal festival of this imaginary god was 
at the summer solstice, when the inundation com- 
menced, at which season by a cruel idolatrous rite, 
the Egyptians sacrificed red haired persons, princi- 
pally foreigners, to Typhon, or the power said to 
preside over tempests, at Busiris and Heliopolis, by 
burning: them alive and scattering: their ashes in the 
air. 

Though of a more recent date than Nineveh and 
Babylon, the cities of Egypt were of great magnifi- 
cence and splendor. The capital, which was called 
No Ammon, was situated on the banks of the Nile. 
It was the chief seat of the worship of J upiter ; and 
such its name denotes in the Egyptian tongue, as 
the secret invisible creator among the Egyptians was 
called Ammon, which signifies hidden. This was 
an appellation of the true God — “ Why seekest 


74 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


thou thus after my name, seeing it is secret,” or 
hidden? This, also, accords with the inscription on 
one of Egypt’s ancient temples, which reads, “ I 
am all that hath been, and is, and will be, and my 
veil no mortal uncovered. My offspring is the sun.” 

This city was venerated by the ancient Egyptians 
as the parent city, the seat of sacred mysteries and 
learning. It had an hundred gates, from each of 
which ten thousand w'-arriors issued with horses and 
chariots. The area of the city embraced twenty- 
seven Roman miles. Its palaces and monuments of 
art were magnificent without a parallel. The palace 
of Karnack, which was on the eastern side of the 
city, the largest edifice in Egypt, was seven hundred 
feet long and one hundred and twenty -five feet in 
breadth. Two ranges of columns led to a portico 
of one hundred and thirty-six columns. The two 
middle ranges of these columns were 'eleven feet in 
diameter ; the remainder were seven feet. The 
length of the vestibule "was three hundred and ninety 
feet, and the breadth one hundred and twenty-five. 
The vestibule led into a court where there were four 
obelisks and twelve colossal figures. Two other 
courts conducted to the apartments of the kings of 
Egypt, Adjoining the palace were spread out on 
every side extensive apartments, connecting there- 
with by avenues of sphynxes, lions and rams, all of 
colossal magnitude. The avenue to the temple of 
the sun was gaiarded by enormous human and lion 


COURT OF EGYPT. 


75 


headed monsters, sixty feet high and one hundred 
and twenty-five feet long. Here mysteries were 
performed to which but few had access, and none 
were permitted to cross the threshold of that myste- 
rious place, without previously passing through the 
most solemn rites. 

Hitherward Abram and Sarai, with Lot and his 
wife, and their children, together with their nume- 
rous attendants, were wending their way. They 
had crossed the Syrian and Arabian deserts and 
reached the shores of the Nile. Their destination 
was the city of the king, as it w^as from him Abram 
hoped to obtain assistance. Aw*are, as he Tvas, of 
the idolatry and profligacy of the king and his court, 
he resorted to an exceptionable expedient. What 
was to be done? Sarai his wife, though somewhat 
advanced in years, w'as still surpassingly beautiful. 
An increase of years had only given character to 
her expression of feature. 

“ If she go to the court of the king as my wife,” 
said Abram, “I shall be destroyed, and she taken 
as a wfife by the king ; but if she go as my sister, 
my life will not be sought on her account, and she 
may be saved. So saying, and fearing lest her 
beautv should become, to him and to her both, a 
snare, he finally said, “ When Pharaoh shall ask 
thee who thou art? thou shalt say, ‘ I ajn his sis- 
ter.’ ” "‘Not thy wife, my lord, — and sister too?” 
said Sa-'-ni. “Nay, for if thou sayest aught but 


76 


THE ASTKOLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


that thou art my sister, they will slay me for thy 
sake. Besides, thou art my sister on my father’s 
side.” 

The day at length arrived for entering Egypt’s 
proud capital, and Abram and Sarai, after entering 
the city, and passing through the long colonnade, 
stood at the portal of the king’s palace. He had 
already heard of Abram’s fame as an astrologer in 
Chaldea, and no sooner did he learn -who were in 
waiting, than he granted them an immediate audi- 
ence. After learning the object of his visit, pro- 
vision was at once made for his family, and he and 
Sarai were taken into the royal palace, where they 
were supplied with every luxury the fertile valley 
afforded. 

The exceeding beauty of Sarai attracted the at- 
tention of all the lords and nobles of Pharaoh’s 
court, and her peculiarly fascinating and attractive 
manners, added to a dignified yet amiable demeanor, 
won her a host of admirers on every hand. For 
her sake Abram was treated with marked respect, 
and his attainments in Assyrian lore soon gained 
for him among the priests and astrologers of the 
Egyptian court, an elevated position. Being the 
Archimagus of Babylon, and astrology having been 
introduced into Egypt from Chaldea, it was not to 
be wondered that Abram should meet with so much 
favor in the eyes of the learned. The Egyptians 
were, however, like his own countrymen, idolaters, 


THE COURT OF EGYPT. 


7'7 


and worshippers of the sun and moon, under the 
names of Osiris and Isis. With their worship, 
however, they had connected mysteries peculiar to 
the occult sciences, and to these Abram was intro- 
duced, though at no time did he swerve from the 
true worship of God, and often did he enter into 
lengthy arguments to prove the folly of worship- 
ping the creature instead of the Creator. 

The king was specially delighted with his new 
guest, and loaded him with many costly presents, 
while at the same time he offered him a place 
among the princes and astrologers of the land. He 
had already taken his fair sister among the maids 
of honor, and she was undergoing that process of 
training peculiar to Eastern courts, whereby she 
■would in due time become a sultana of the royal 
house. 

The fears of Abram at last came upon him, 
but in a Avay he little suspected. Already had 
Pharaoh claimed Sarai as his own. To him it was 
a dark and dreadful day, a period of awful sus- 
pense, and the mind of Sarai was tossed with tu- 
multuous feelings. They had involved themselves 
in a sad dilemma. With their own hands they 
had woven around their fate a web from which no 
human skill or power could extricate them. Sarai 
was at the mercy of a profligate court, and she 
trembled in view of her peril and approaching 
degradation. Under the circumstances Abram could 


78 


THE ASTKOLOGER OE CHALDEA. 


not, and dare not, interpose without involving him- 
self and wife, if possible, in a still greater calamity, 
and he could not claim the Divine interposition, 
because he had not come to Egypt by the special 
direction of the Almighty ; it being only a general 
providence which pointed out his way. Notwith- 
standing all this, they both resorted to prayer and 
earnestly besought deliverance from the dreadful 
evil which threatened their happiness. 

At length the day arrived which terminated the 
probation for her admission ‘into the harem of the 
king, as one of his wives. Her rank and beauty were 
such as to create quite an excitement in the court, 
among the princes and ladies. The event which 
would tix her doom, and forever consign her to a 
life of hopeless misery, was to be preceded by a 
grand festival, and every note of preparation was 
sounded. 

A thousand lights were streaming from incense 
burners, and the long colonnade of sphynxes and 
lions was lit up by their glare. The proud palace 
with its lofty arches, rung with joyous voices, 
while strains of enchanting music filled the air. 
But while every heart beat in unison to the general 
joy, those of Abram and Sarai were filled with 
sadness. 

The fearful crisis at last came, and Sarai, gor- 
geously dressed, as a victim for the slaughter, was 
about to be led away by the voluptuous Pharaoh. 


THE COURT OF EGYPT. 


79 


But hark ! Among the assembled wiiie-excited 
throng a princess fails and a low sullen moan es- 
capes her lips. Then another and another is smit- 
ten, and where before there was naught but joyous 
shouts of mirth, now the palace is filled with la- 
mentation, mourning and woo. The angel of death 

is there, and one after another of the royal house- 

•• 

hold is struck down and borne away to the place of 
graves. 

What means this sudden and awful visitation ? 
What has sent an avenging hand to strike terror 
into the heart of the king? He seeks to solve 
the awful mystery which has snatched his chosen 
ones from his side. In the midst of his terror the 
truth flashed upon his mind. “Can this be the 
wife of the Chaldean ?” 

Abram was instantly summoned to his presence. 
“ W^hat is this that thou hast done unto me ?” said 
the terror-smitten king. “Why didst thou not tell 
me she was thy wife ? Why saidst thou, she is my 
sister?” At this searching and pointed reproof 
from royal lips, Abram felt keenly the enormity of 
liis deception. Shame and self-mortification, for 
the first time in his life, became the inmates of his 
troubled mind, and he was dumb with silence. 

“'Hast thou nothing to say? Wherefore didst 
thou deceive me,” he added, “seeing that so much 
evil would come to my house on account thereof. 
Now therefore, behold thy wife, she is as she came 
from thy hand, take her and go thy way.” 


80 THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 

The agony of mind through which Sarai had 
passed was now relieved, the mountain pressure was 
taken from her heart, and falling into the arms of 
her beloved Abram she was clasped to his throb- 
bing heart, again his own. 

The pestilence was stayed in the court of Pharaoh, 
and just as the light of the succeeding morning 
was breaking over the hills, and bathing with its 
golden beams the city of Thebes, or ancient No 
Ammon, a cavalcade was seen moving along the 
shores of the Nile toward the land of Canaan. 

It was a mild summer morn. The air was redo- 
lent Avith the perfume of many-tinted flowers, and 
vocal with the songs of bright-plumed birds, which 
filled the groves of oranges and lemons that lined 
the banks. Abram and his family, loaded with 
presents, were leaving Egypt. God had sent upon 
the land of Palestine fertilizing showers, and the 
parched earth Avas again renewed, the hills and 
plains and A'alleys were again covered Avith verdure, 
and smiling plenty bloomed on every hand. All 
nature AA'ore an aspect of life and beauty, while 
songs of joy and gladness from those who had sur- 
vived the famine, were heard in eA^ery place. 

Day after day the caA'^alcade moA^es on toAA'ards 
the promised land, until finall}^ the travelers enter 
its borders and soon reach Bethel, endeared by 
many halloAved associations. Abram and Sarai 
hasten to the altar erected previous to their depar- 


THE COURT OF EGYPT. 


81 


ture, and there, surrounded by their numerous 
attendants and relatives, they bow and offer up 
a sacrifice of gratitude to the God of all their 
mercies, and renew their covenant with Heaven. 
Pleasant to them was the memory of past mercies, 
and sacred, above all other spots, was the one which 
had been consecrated by prayer and thanksgiving. 
Bethel never looked lovelier. It seemed as if to 
the past drouth had succeeded a new creation. 
Bloominof flowers and clustering fruits were seen on 
every hand, and every heart was filled with joy at 
the return of plenty. To Abram and Sarai the 
simplicity, beauty, and purity of home were far 
more precious than the luxury and profligacy of 
the proud palace and court of Pharaoh, and many 
and grateful were the thanks they offered to God 
for their deliverance. 

Bethel, however, with all its hallowed and de- 
lightful associations, was not sufficiently capacious 
for the numerous and rapidly increasing family and 
possessions of Abram and Lot. They were exceed- 
ingly rich in flocks and herds, sheep and oxen, 
camels and asses, men servants and maid servants, 
besides a large amount of silver and gold, and 
costly presents which they had received in Egypt. 
Though they lived together in peace and unity, yet 
the possessions of Abram and Lot were not in com- 
mon, but kept separate and distinct from each 
other. So far as they were concerned they could 
6 


'82 THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 

have lived forever in harmony, because, chough 
their possessions were separate, their interests were 
one ; yet it w'as not so with their herdmen, among 
whom a strife arose in regard to the occupancy of 
pasturage. Notwithstanding all the efforts at re- 
conciliation, it became evident that Abram and Lot 
must separate, and occupy different territories. 
This was peacefully agreed upon, and Abram, with 
a magnanimity which ever characterized his life, 
made the following proposal to Lot : “Let there be, 
I pray thee, no strife between me and thee, and 
between my herdmen and thy herdmen, for we are 
brethren. Is not the whole land before thee ? 
Separate thyself, I pray thee, from me. If thou 
wilt take the left hand I will go to the right ; or, if 
thou depart to the right hand, then I will go to the 
left.” 

Such generosity, on the part of Abram, to one who 
had under his protection and auspices, received all 
his standing in society and acquired all his posses- 
sions, was worthy of the man, and showed him 
possessed of a spirit vastly different from that which 
governs the generality of the best of men under 
like circumstances. 

No sooner was the proposition made, than Lot, 
W'ith a different spirit from that ■which dictated the 
generous proposal, eagerly made his selection of 
the fertile and well watered valley of the Jordan. 
This portion of the country was fruitful beyond 


COURT OF EGYPT. 


83 


description, and for beauty was compared by the 
Almighty himself to the garden of the Lord. Every 
preparation necessary for the separation and journey 
being made, Lot, with his men servants and maid 
servants started for Sodom, one of the chief cities 
on the banks of the Jordan. 

Abram, grieved at the necessity which caused 
his kinsman to separate from him, greatly feared 
the consequences of his taking up his abode in a 
land of strangers, and especially in a city where the 
inhabitants w'ere wholly given to idolatry. Lot had 
departed, but not without his blessing, and at the 
mornino* and evenine* sacrifice a fervent remem- 

C3 O 

brance Avas had of him and his family in his prayers. 
Shortly after Lot’s departure the Lord appeared to 
Abram on the mountain, and said, “ Lift up thine 
eyes and look from the place where thou art, north- 
Avard and soutliAvard, and eastward and AvestAvard. 
For all the land Avhich thou seest I Avill give to 
thee and thy seed forever. Arise, AA^alk through the 
land in the length of it, and the breadth of it, for I 
Avill ffh^e it unto thee.” This Avas but a renewal of 

O 

the covenant, and Avhile it assured Abram that his 
conduct in Egypt had not vitiated the sacred agree- 
ment, it also determined him in regard to his pre- 
sent location, and leaving Bethel’s plains of peace 
and plenty, he removed, Avith all his possessions, 
again to the mountain range of Mamre. 

We have already spoken of the niggedness of 


84 


THE A3TKOLOGER OF CHALDEA. * 


this district of country, and the reader has seen its 
previous inability to support the numerous family, 
and whether Abram was prompted to return to 
Mamre on account of the decrease in his family and 
flocks and herds by the separation of Lot and his 
possessions, or whether it was because he wished to 
extend his range, holding on still to the fertile val- 
leys as his God-given possession, or whether he 
was specially directed of the Lord to this course 
of action, we are not informed. There were, to the 
mind of Abram, doubtless, reasons sufficient to 
justify him in the movement, and subsequent events 
in his history seems to indicate their correctness. 


CHAPTER V. 


BATTLE OF THE KINGS. 

Rumors of war, with its dire alarms, reached the 
Patriarch ere he had dwelt long in his beautiful 
mountain home. The confederate kings of the five 
cities of the plain, namely, Berah, the king of So- 
dom, Birsha, the king of Gomorrah, Shinab, the 
king of Admah, Shemeber, the king of Zeboim, and 
the king of Zoar, were under the government of 
Chederlaomer, the proud and mighty monarch of 
Persia. Being uneasy under the Persian yoke, 
which had pressed with galling weight upon them 
for twelve years, and unAvilling to be any longer 
tributary, or submit to the heavy exactions imposed 
upon them to support that gorgeous Eastern monar- 
chy, which extended its grasping arms over the 
most fertile portions of Palestine, they resolved to 
rally their forces and throw off the yoke. The 
note of preparation was sounded, soldiers were 
marshaled, and in anticipation of an invasion from 
the Persian army, every city was fortified. So 
thorough and perfect were the preparations for de- 
fense, that the Persian power alone was not able to 
overcome the kings of the plain, and again reduce 
them to subjection. Such was the opinion of 

85 


86 


THE ASTROLOaER OF CHALDEA. 


Chederlaomer himself, but he had powerful allies in 
the persons of Amraphel, the king of Chaldea, 
Arioc, the king of Babylon, and Tidal, the king of 
the surrounding nations, and through means of 
messengers sent to the courts of these respective 
kings, a league was formed, and every preparation 
was made for making war upon the five cities, and 
visiting their respective kings with summary ven- 
geance. 

Though the neighboring provinces of Palestine 
had not formall}’’ declared themselves independent, 
or entirely united with the five kings in throwing 
off their allegiance to the Pei-sian government, still 
they manifested great disaffection, and bore with 
great uneasiness and constant murmurings their 
subjection to the throne of Persia. The king of 
Persia was aware of this state of things, and for 
the purpose of chastising them and thus coercing 
a more perfect obedience, as well as inflicting pun- 
ishment, if not a war of extermination upon the 
rebellious kings of Sodom, Gomorrah, Admah, 
Zeboim, and Zoar, the allied powers marched their 
armies against the Rephaims in Astaroth-Karnahim, 
the Zuzims in Ham, the Emims in Shareh-Kiria- 
thaim, the Horites in Mount Seir, the Amalekites 
in Kadesh, and the Amorites in Hazezontamar. 
Thousands upon thousands of these defenseless Ca- 
naanites fell before the victorious arms of the allied 
powers, and wherever the proud hosts of Persia and 


BATTLE OF THE KINGS. 


87 


Assyria went, they carried desolation and rapine, 
and death. It appeared that the more that were 
slain by the insatiate sword, only whetted it for 
keener rapine and a more sanguinary destruction. 

Tidings of this dreadful war reached the ears of 
the confederate kings of the vale of Siddim, and 
instead of remaining in their strongholds and waiting 
the attack of the enemy, as they should have done, 
so soon as they learned of their arrival on the con- 
fines of their territory, they marshaled their hosts 
and went out to give them battle. Though it was 
five kings against four yet the army of the five bore 
no comparison with the numerous hosts of the four 
mighty kings. Besides, the allied forces were 
flushed with successive victories, and they could 
not believe that the petty sovereignties of the plain 
would be able to measure swords with them upon 
the field of strife. The contending armies at length 
met, and a fierce and deadly conflict ensued. For 
hours nought was to be heard but the clash of arms 
and the groans of the wounded, mingled with the 
long and deafening shouts of the victors. Chariots 
and horsemen and footmen were all mingled together 
in wild confusion in the deadly strife. At length 
the army of the eastern allies prevails, and the 
kings of the plain retreat to their cities. In their 
retreat, the king of Sodom, and the king of Gomor- 
rah, falling in slime pits, with which the plain of 
Siddim abounded in those days, are taken by the 


88 


THK ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


pursuing hosts. The most of the army fled to the 
mountains, and the victorious hosts entering the 
cities take possession of the spoils, making all the 
inhabitants prisoners. After feasting and rioting 
upon the spoils, the cities were stripped of much of 
their treasure, and taking several of the most dis- 
tinguished citizens prisoners, the army took its 
departure. 

Eight years had now passed away since the sepa- 
ration of Abram and Lot, and as the distance from 
Mamre to Sodom was forty miles, it was seldom 
that Abram heard of the fate and fortunes of his 
kinsman. We have already alluded to the rumors 
of war which came to his ears, and his anxiety for 
the welfare of Lot was not a little heightened when 
a messenger, in breathless haste, approached his 
tent and exclaimed. 

“Alas, master, Sodom is taken by the enemy, 
and thy kinsman Lot, with his wife and daughters, 
are carried away into captivity,’^ 

“Whence comes the intelligence of my kinsman’s 
sad fate ?” 

“The kings of Sodom and Gomorrah fell and* 
were taken in battle, and I, alone, of the number 
who fled to the mountains, have come to tell of my 
master’s fate.” 

“What direction took the victorious army with 
its spoils ?” 

“The direction northward, this side the Jordan, 
my lord.” 


BATTLE OF THE KINGS. 


89 


“ Then, by the help of the great Jehovah, I will 
rescue him,” said Abram, at the same time sum- 
moning trusty and chosen men, whom he sent as 
messengers to the confederate kings of the neigh- 
boring provinces, Aner, Eschol, and Mamre. In 
the mean time xVbram armed his own chosen baud 
of servants, to the number of three hundred and 
eighteen. Up to this time he had been a man of 
peace, following a pastoral life, and watching with 
pious fidelity over his flocks and herds, knowing 
nothing of the tumult and strife of war. Now his 
bosom heaved with a new" and mighty impulse, not 
to gain the renown of a conqueror or to gratify a 
selfish and heartless ambition, but to avenge the 
w'rongs done to his kinsman, and his magnanimous 
soul w"as kindled with energy to deliver him if pos- 
sible from the hands of the enemy. His beloved 
Sarai shared in the truly patriotic feelings w"hich 
moved his heart, and wdth her own fair hands she 
anointed his shield, balanced the nodding helmet 
upon his head, braced the corslet and mailed coat 
and buckler above the shining armor, and presented 
him the bright unsheathed sword which was not to 
return to its scabbard until injured innocence had 
been redressed, and the proud conquerors of Sodom 
and its confederate cities had been humbled in the 
dust at his feet. 

It was not long until the approaching armies of 
his friendly allies sounded their trumpets on the 


90 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


mountain ranges of Mamre. Soon, every arrange- 
ment being made, tlie venerable patriarch and his 
allies were seen on the line of march towards the 
field of contest. On their route they passed the 
northern limits of the plain of Jordan, and taking 
the direction of the lake of Gennessaret, they passed 
along its shores ; crossing the tributary streams of 
Jordan they followed the course of that river up to 
its very head waters. The victorious army of the 
enemy was still before them, and they hurried their 
marches, only encamping at night for refreshment 
and rest. The spirit which actuated Abram seemed 
to have been communicated to all the confederate 
forces. His trust was in his God, and he was nerved 
by superhuman courage to advance upon the foe. 

Already had the army marched a distance of one 
hundred and fifty miles, and were nearing the bor- 
ders of Syria. Believing that the enemy could not 
be far off, spies were sent in advance to reconnoiter 
the ground and ascertain their position. It was not 
long until the messengers returned with the tidings 
that the army of Chederlaomer and his allies was 
encamped in one of the defiles of Mount Lebanon, 
reveling in the spoils of their successive victories, 
and wholy unconscious of anv danger. 

* O 

Abram called a council of war, and skilfully 
arranging all the forces as commander-in-chief, it 
was agreed that they should approach as near as 
possible the covert of the enemy, and wait until the 
first watch of the night before making an attack. 


BATTLE OP THE KINGS. 


91 


Night came, and with it the hour for action. 
Under cover of the darkness, the army, divided into 
four companies, led on by their respective comman- 
ders, stealthily advanced upon the encampment at 
different points. There were no sentinels posted 
by the enemy to guard the passes, and when they 
met on the summits and at the openings of the 
defile, they flanked out right and left. Then rose 
the battle-cry, which reverberated from rank to 
rank, “the sword of Jehovah and Abram,” and 
with every sword draAVn, and shields and lances 
glittering in the light of the moon, the patriot army 
rushed to the onset. So sudden was the shock of 
war, and so unprepared were the midnight revelers 
for defense, that they fell in great numbers, and 
the only concern that seemed to actuate the entire 
army was how to make their escape. Never was 
stratagem more successful, never was victory more 
complete. Terror-stricken they fly in confusion, 
and those who succeeded in making their escape 
fled into the deserts of Syria. Multitudes were 
taken as prisoners of Avar, and all the wealth of the 
spoils of the conquering army, of Avhich they had 
drained Palestine, became the property of Abram 
and his confederates. 

Lot and his family Avere saved, together with 
many of the nobility and citizens of the fiA^e cities 
of the plain. The army having met Avith such 
signal success in achieving its object, organized a 


92 THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 

detachment of chosen men, and made preparations 
on the following morning to pursue the defeated 
kings. The route taken by the main body of the 
army that could be collected after the battle, was 
known to Abram, for he had sent spies after them. 
Immediate pursuit was given, and having but the 
advantaore of a few hours, it was overtaken at Hobah 
not far from Damascus. A hot and desperate con- 
flict ensued in which the kings w^ere again van- 
quished, and fled, leaving the remainder of the spoil 
a prey to the victorious cohort of Abram. 

Abram was now distant from Gomorrah one hun- 
dred and sixty miles, and from Mamre by that 
route, two hundred. So completely dispersed and 
broken were the forces of the enemy, and so little 
was the probability that they would be able to rally 
again, or attempt to reconquer the territories through 
which they had passed, that Abram thought proper 
to return to the main army, and collecting all the 
captives and spoils, to make preparations to return 
to the cities of the plain. He was encouraged in 
this by the signal interposition of Divine Provi- 
dence in his behalf, and on joining the army which 
he had left on the sides of Lebanon, his suggestions 
met with an unanimous approval from his compan- 
ions in arms. In a short time the victorious army 
was on its march home. 

On their way back the nearest and most practi- 
cable route was to leave Gennessaret and the Jordan 


J3ATTLE OF THE KINGS. 


93 


to the left and pass through the hill country. It 
was not necessary, now that the great object of the 
expedition was accomplished, that the army should 
resort to forced marches, and hence they took their 
leisure, seeking the most suitable places for encamp- 
ment. After such a fatiguing march, and arduous 
but successful battle, the officers and soldiers needed 
refreshment and rest. On these occasions Abram 
would take Lot and his family into his tent, and 
hours were spent in hearing them rehearse their his- 
tory since the separation, and the adventurous 
incidents connected with the fatal battle at Sodom 
and their captivity under Chederlaomer and his 
allies. The recital of many things connected with 
life in Sodom, and the trials and hardships endured 
by the family while in captivity, was painful to 
Abram, and he labored to effect a re-union of the 
families, promising them full protection and every 
blessing they desired, in his mountain home at 
Mamre. ' But, alas, Lot’s heart was too strongly 
wedded to Sodom and its pleasure -seeking, profli- 
gate inhabitants, to induce him to entertain with 
proper regard the kind proposal. His wife and 
daughters, too, had formed associations which they 
could not think of exchanging for -a country home. 

At length the army approached the ancient city 
of Salem near to the mount which was called 
Moriah. It was a lovely spot. A peaceful vale 
formed by the aforementioned mountain and another 


94 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


on the east, which was crowned with olive trees, 
spread out its inviting bowers to the toil-worn army, 
and here they pitched their tents and encamped for 
the night, among the clustering vines and oversha- 
dowing olives of the valley. A silvery stream 
wound through the valley, reflecting the hues of the 
beautiful flowers which grew upon its margin and 
casting their fragrance on the evening air. The 
whole valley, and the sides of the mountains, to 
their very summits, were clothed with flowers of the 
most enchanting hues, and trees of the utmost grace 
and beauty. It reminded Abram of Eden, in his 
own land, where he had such a glorious vision at 
the ceremony of the worship of the god of day. 

Early on the following morning, while the sun 
was gilding the tops of Olivet and reflecting its 
mellow glory on the valley below, as Abram was 
enofao'ed at his devotions in his tent, he was startled 
at witnessing a form descend into the vale, dressed 
in the most gorgeous apparel, with a priestly miter 
on his head. For sumptuousness of vestments he 
had never witnessed any thing, even in the magnifi- 
cent palace of the king of Nineveh, or the temple 
of the priests in Babylon, that excelled those worn 
by the mysterious stranger. He approached Abram 
with dignity and grace. An unearthly radiance 
shone from his countenance, and a smile of inimi- 
table sweetness played over his calm benignant 
features. In one hand the stranger held a roll of 


BATTLE OF THE KING8. 


96 


bread, and in the other a cup of 'wine. “Surely,’^ 
thought Abram, “this is a celestial visitant, the 
angel of Jehovah himself.” Approaching the tent, 
Abram advanced to meet him with a firm and confi- 
dent step. Then “the priest of the most high God” 
presented to Abram the bread and the Avine, Avhile 
the mysterious person pronounced the folloAving 
benediction : 

“Blessed be Abram of the most hio*h God Avho is 

O 

possessor of heaven and earth, and blessed is the 
most high God, who hath delivered thine enemies 
into thy hand.” 

Then Avas it known to Abram Avho the strano^er 
was, for though by name Melchezedeck, Avhich in 
the HebreAv tongue meaneth king of Salem, or 
prince of Peace, yet had he a name Avhich is above 
every name, a priest and king forever, Avithout be- 
ginning of days or end of years. He had communed 
Avith God, and the light and glory of that hour con- 
stituted one of the happiest reminiscences of his 
CA^entful but faithful life. A divine reA^elation unto 
him, after this manner, had neA^er been made to 
Abram before. The Avonderful person before him 
Avas the prophet, priest, and king, infallible, perfect 
and everlasting, and, a greater than Abram and all 
the kings of the earth, and to him the patriarch 
presented a tenth part of all the spoils of the enemy 
as a grateful offering to God for his interposition in 
his behalf. 


96 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


Pleasant and delightful as it would have been for 
the returning army to have tarried longer in this 
peaceful vale, it was necessary that they should re- 
sume their march on the following morning. We 
shall not detain the reader b}’ a recital of all the 
events connected with the march from Salem to 
Sodom. Suflice it to say, that in a short space of 
time, passing along the valley of the Jordan they 
entered the rich and fertile vale of Siddim. The 
kinf^ of Sodom, on hearino* of their arrival in the 
country hastened out to meet the approaching army. 
The released captives shouted aloud for joy when 
the sight of their native city burst upon their view. 
Many of them, doubtless, thought when they were 
taken captive that they were leaving their home and 
their kindred forever, but Providence had ordered 
otherwise, and by the powerful arm of a chieftain 
unknown in the annals of war, they were rescued 
and restored to their homes and friends. The king 
of Sodom received Abram and his confederates with 
every demonstration of respect. The spoils of the 
cities, consisting, in part, as we have already seen, 
of great treasures, were brought back with the cap- 
tives, and preparations were made by the generous 
patriarch to restore them to the respective cities to 
which they belonged. To this end a council of the 
kings was called and the treasures presented, that 
each might claim the portion belonging to their 
respective provinces. In addition to the treasure 


BATTLE OF THE KINGS. 


97 


were large quantities of cattle which had been taken 
from the inhabitants and the surrounding nations 
through which Chederlaomer had passed with his 
army. 

The magnanimous proposal of Abram to return 
the spoils of war, which of right belonged to him 
and his confederates, was met by the generous re- 
fusal of the kings to receive any portion of it, all 
they asked was the restoration of the captives of 
war. To this Abram replied, “I have sworn to the 
God of heaven, that I will not take from a thread 
even to a shoe-latchet, and that I will not take any 
thing that belongs to others, lest it should be said, 
‘Abram hath gained his riches by force and arms. 
All that I ask is that which the soldiers have eaten, 
and the portion that is justly due my confederates, 
Aner, Eschol and Mamre.’” The captives from 
the neighboring states of Palestine were sent, every 
man, to their homes, with the portion of the spoil 
which had been taken from each. 

Great were the rejoicings in the cities of the plain. 
All the kings and nobles did obeisance to Abram, 
and such was the respect and esteem in which he 
was held that they would have made him monarch 
of the land of Palestine, but he refused the scepter 
at their hands. God having already given to him 
the entire country, he chose not to accept any dis- 
tinction or inheritance from mortals, preferring to 
stand in his lot and obey alone the directions of 


98 


THK ASTROLOGER OE CHALDEA. 


that divine voice which called him from his grotto 
in Ur of the Chaldees, and from the temple and 
palaces of Babylon to this then unknown land, a 
stranger and a pilgrim. For him there were to be 
higher, holier manifestations, connected with the 
destiny of nations yet unborn, and his faith in the 
divine promise assured him, that through his seed, 
though yet childless, all the nations of the earth 
were to be blessed to the end of time. 

The army was disbanded, and the confederates 
of Abram returned with their portions of the spoils 
to their respective provinces. 

At length the day arrived for Abram’s return to 
his home in Mamre. He had not heard from his 
beloved Sarai and household since entering upon his 
successful expedition, and he "was anxious again to 
embrace the wife of his vouth and the idol of his 

V 

heart. Collecting together his servants, now no 
longer herdsmen, but well trained soldiers, they 
entered upon their march. Vast multitudes, inclu- 
ding the kings and nobility, escorted them from So- 
dom, and as the triumphal procession moved through 
the streets, and passed over the plain to ascend the 
mountain, loud shouts of victory rent the air, while 
from every tongue was heard the exclamation, 
“Long live Abram, the servant of the most high 
God possessor of heaven and earth, who hath de- 
livered our enemies into his hand; and long live 
Aner and Eschol and Mamre, his faithful friends and 
allies.” 


BATTLE OF THE KINGS. 


99 


Many had been the fears, and dark the forebodings 
of the devoted Sarai, and many and earnest had 
been her prayers for the successful return of Abram. 
Nor did she hear of anything connected with his 
fate or that of his army, until, on a clear bright 
morning, after rising from her devotions, her heart 
was made to leap for joy, as from her tent she be- 
held floating in the distance the victorious banners 
of the returning army. Calling her maids, she has- 
tened out, with timbrels and song, to meet her 
beloved spouse and his brave soldiers. It was a 
joyous meeting. Abram sprang forward and clasp- 
ed in a long and rapturous embrace the beloved 
Sarai, and all partook of the general joy. Mamre, 
with its tents, never looked more beautiful, nor did 
ever the mountain plain ring with louder notes ^f 
gladness than on that auspicious day. 


CHAPTER VI. 


VISIT OF THE ANGELS TO SODOM. 

On one of those calm, quiet evenings peculiar to 
the rural districts of Palestine, as Abram was sit- 
ting in a grove engaged in meditation, and pleasant 
reminiscences came thronging upon his mind, in 
which he experienced the most grateful emotions, 
arising from a consideration of the Divine interpo- 
sition on his behalf, especially in his late victorious 
expedition, a shade of doubt, if not of sadness, was 
seen to pass over his placid features. The thought 
which rippled the otherwise calm surface of his 
features, and cast a shadow over its brightness, was, 
that having been the commander-in-chief of the 
confederate forces which achieved a victory over the 
mighty army of the eastern allies, they would ere 
long rally their forces and seek revenge. Under 
such circumstances he could not but feel troubled. 
At this juncture the Almighty appeared to him and 
allayed his apprehensions by assuring him that he 
had undertaken his defense and would ever reward 
his fiithfulness. The words which came to his ears 
and carried confidence to his heart were, “Fear not 
Abram, I am thy shield and thy exceeding great 
reward.” 


100 


VISIT OF THE ANGELS TO SODOM. 101 

In connection with this, another thought of a 
distrustful character, took possession of his mind ; 
so true it is that kindred thoughts, be they pleasant 
or painful, generally associate themselves together, 
and pass in succession before the mind. He had 
waited long for the fulfilment of the promise made 
to him in Chaldea, before he left his native city and 
which had been renewed to him since his arrival in 
Palestine. He had been for many years a wanderer, 
and both he and his beloved Sarai had their faith 
tried in the long delay of the promise. God had 
ever proven faithful to him, and he had every reason 
to believe that the day of joyous fulfilment would 
come, but “hope deferred maketh the heart sick,” 
and hope and fear darkly struggled for the mastery. 
Having had his mind put at rest 'in regard to pro- 
tection from his foes, he desired additional informa- 
tion as an encouragement to his hopes in regard to 
the promise, and he ventured to address the Lord, 
“What wilt thou give me, 0 Lord,” said he, 
“seeing I go childless, and the steward of my house 
is this Eliezer of Damascus. Behold thou hast 
given me no seed, and lo, one born in my house is 
my heir.” 

Heretofore he relied on the naked promise of 
Jehovah ; now it seems he wished to have an addi- 
tional confirmation by a sensible sign. God con- 
descended to confirm the promise as the patriarch 
desired, and commanded him to make preparations 
for a sacrifice. 


102 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


Twilight was advancing, the last rays of the set- 
ting sun had already faded away in the west, and 
the giant trees of Mamre w^ere casting their shadows 
on the ground. First the evening star, and then 
the others in its train, began, one after another, to 
take their stations in the sky. Soon the whole 
lieavens -were lighted up with the starry host, and 
the broad galaxy overhead, formed of innumerable 
suns and systems, seemed like the avenue of angels, 
through which they entered the portals of heaven. 
While Abram stood beside the sacrifice which he 
had prepared, and, as he Avas wont, gazed on the 
bright orbs aboA^e, a light superior to tlieir bright- 
ness gently descended from the parted heavens and 
rested above him. It AA'as the same divine glory 
which had before shed its light upon his Ausion. 

“Cast thine eves noAV towards heaven,’’ said the 
Divine voice, “and tell the stars, if thou be able to 
number them. Thus shall thy children be, 0 
Abram !” The soul of the patriarch AA^as filled Avith 
beAvil dering delight as he gazed upon the glory 
above and around him. Deeper and more intense 
became that glory. It settled upon him and filled 
his senses Avith a rapture insupportable to a mortal 
nature. Abram Avas entranced. The material Avorld 
w'as shut out from his vision, the stars themselves 
faded away in the inefiPable light, and he Avas lost to 
all but the spiritual Avorld around him and within 
him. Before his spiritual vision now spread out the 


VISIT OF THK ANGELS TO SODOM. 103 

future of four hundred years, embracing the histroy 
of his family and their various fortunes, from their 
bondage in Egypt to their final settlement in Pales- 
tine. All the events connected with their wonderful 
history, during the hundreds of years to come, were 
spread out as in a vast panorama before his aston- 
ished vision. 

After this had passed, another scene presented 
itself to the entranced patriarch. Between the 
parted victims, slain for sacrifice, there appeared a 
smoking furnace and a burning lamp. These were 
the symbols of the Divine presence, and by Abram 
their nature and significance were fully understood. 
The divine promise was now confirmed as it never 
had been before, and with it was a confirmation of 
Abram’s faith, such as ever afterwards kept him 
from doubt, and prompted him under the most dis- 
couraging circumstances to hope on in full assurance 
of a fulfilment of the promise, in God’s own time. 

When the revelation had ended and the divine 
glory had disappeared, the patriarch was awakened 
from his mysterious trance as one would awake from 
a quiet slumber. The light and glory had departed, 
the smoking furnace and the lamp were gone. All 
was still. The moon had risen and walked in 
brightness among the stars. All nature seemed to 
be enjoying a calm repose after being the silent wit- 
ness of a scene such as it had never beheld before. 
Abram turns away slowly from the spot, and walks 


104 


THh; AaiKOLUGEU OF UHALDKA. 


towards his habitation. Away in the deep shade of 
the woods he beholds an object approaching. It 
was a slender, graceful form, not unlike his beloved 
Sarai, and yet it is not the idol of his heart, for he 
knew too well her step to be deceived in this. A 
nearer approach shows it to be the dark-eyed Egyp- 
tian maid, Hagar, whom Pharaoh had presented to 
Sarai as her attendant at the harem. As she came 
near she exclaimed, “Is this my Lord? My mis- 
tress is anxious for thy return, and from the lateness 
of the hour hath sent me forth to find thee.” It was 
not long until he embraced the anxious one, and 
breathed into her listening ear the burning thoughts 
of his heart, re-assuring her that she should yet fold 
in her maternal arms the hope of the world. 

Notwithstanding all these assurances, as well as 
what she had herslf experienced of the divine regard 
in working out deliverances in her behalf as well as 
that of her husband, her mind was filled with per- 
plexing doubts and fears in regard to the fulfilment 
of God’s word, that she should bear the child of 
promise. Years pass away and increase those dis- 
tracting fears, until at length wearied and faint with 
long expectation, she conceives — as the ever fruitful 
and inventive mind of woman is wont to do — a 
strange device, and one which, though not positively 
unlawful in the times in which she lived, was still 
highly questionable, if not dishonorable to her faith, 
as distrusting the promise and the oath of God con- 


VISIT OF THE ANOELS TO SODOM. 


106 


firmed by the most wonderful sio-ns. The strange 
and wonderful device wdiich she conceived, was 
this, namely, to give her favorite handmaid, Hagar, 
to Abram for a wife in a second and subordinate 
capacity. She was now well stricken in years, and 
her faith could scarcely prompt her to believe that 
she w'ould ever have a child. She w'ould therefore 
obviate this difficulty, by giving' up Hagar to her 
husband, that the child which should be the result of 
this temporary union, might be adopted by her and 
made the child of promise. Such were the thoughts 
and reasonings of Sarai, but little did she dream 
that she was mingling for herself ingredients in a 
cup of sorrow which she would have one day to 
drain to its very dregs. Her Egyptian maid should 
have ever stood before her as a monument and 
memorial of that unhappy journey to the court of 
Pharaoh, so deeply fraught with peril to her virtue, 
but throuo-h which Providence had enabled her to 

O 

pass unhurt. Censurable as she was for her conduct 
in attempting to forestal the designs of Divine 
Providence, still she must not be judged too harshly 
in the light of modern civilization. Polygamy 
w'as allowed in that dark age of the world, and for 
mail)’’ succeeding ages. She had long and earnestly 
desired to see her devoted husband realize the great 
wish of his heart, and none but God knows the 
struggles of her heart, and the deep, intense and 
bitter conflicts which she endured before she made 


106 


THK ASTROLOGER OE CHALDEA. 


up her mind to relinquish the idol of her heart to 
another, and the right of becoming the progenitor 
of that great and honored line which for many 
years she fondly hoped would have hailed her as 
their mother. While therefore, the sacrifice which 
she made evinced great magnanimity of soul, and 
an earnest desire to see the plans of Jehovah con- 
summated, still it was suggested by unbelief in the 
divine promise, and fraught with peril. No sooner 
was Hao-ar raised from the condition of a servant to 

O 

something like an equality with her mistress than 
she began to cherish the hope that she was to be the 
favored mother of Abram’s posterity; for she was 
not ignorant of that which interested her master 
and mistress, and was so often the topic of conver- 
sation in the patriarchal family. The consequence 
of such imaginings became soon apparent in her con- 
duct towards her mistress. Instead of regarding 
with more respect and affection the woman who had 
manifested so much magnanimity, and made so great 
a sacrifice of feeling in her behalf, she affected to 
look upon her with contempt, and began to assume 
a supercilious tone in her manners which roused 
the lofty spirit of Sarai. Though she had by her 
own mistaken policy brought all these evils upon 
herself, still there was a point of endurance beyond 
which she could not go, and she consequently made 
known her complaints to Abram. The result was 
that Hagar was excluded from the family and sent 


VISIT OF THE ANGELS TO SODOM. 107 

out an exile into the wilderness of Mamre. Though 
an outcast, and abandoned by the patriarchal family, 
still she was not forsaken of God. Sadly and sor- 
rowfully she wandered about in the desert, not 
knowing where to go. She had grievously offended 
her mistress, and to return to her seemed impossible; 
indeed she felt that rather than do so she would 
perish in solitude. Weary and fatigued with walk- 
ing she sat down by one of those fountains of water 
which break out of the cliffs on the sides of the 
desert mountain. Scarcely had she seated herself 
ere she was startled by a soft and kindly voice 
which pronounced her name. She turned and 
beheld an angel wdio continued addressing her. 
Whence earnest thou, and whither art thou going.” 
“I flee from the face of my mistress, Sarai.” 
“Return to thy mistress and submit thyself to 
her hands, for I will multiply thy seed exceedingly, 
so that it shall not be counted for multitude. Thou 
shaft bear a child and shalt call his name Ishmael, 
because the Lord hath heard thy affliction.” 

For a moment she stood bewildered, for she knew 
it was the Divine One who spake to her. The tears 
came flashing up to her dark eyes like the streams 
from the fountain whose waters were playing at her 
feet. Obeying the divine directions she turned her 
steps homeward, and on arriving there, with meek- 
ness and docility she entered the tent of her mis- 
tress. 


108 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


In process of time the child was born, and Abram 
gave it the name designated by the Lord. Still he 
was not the child of promise, though assured that 
he should be the progenitor of a vast multitude. 
So far from being the ch.ild of promise in whom all 
the families of the earth were to be blessed, it was 
said of him that “his hand should be against every 
man, and every man’s hand should be against him.” 
Thirteen long years roll sluggishly away, and during 
all this time no visions of God throw their light and 
glory upon the path of the w'eary pilgrims. No di- 
vine messenger repeated the assurance of the long 
cherished promise, and the sun of Abram and Sarai 
seemed fast sinking behind a dark and clouded sky. 
History is silent about the melancholy years passed 
by the patriarch and his wife. Their faith was put 
to the severest test. Abram was now nearing his 
hundredth year and Sarai her ninetieth. But as the 
darkest hour is just before the breaking day, and as 
man’s extremity is God’s opportunity, so in the 
deepest night of their despondency Jehovah again 
appeared. The two were sitting together in their 
spacious pavilion, given up to sad and melancholy 
thoughts. Presently a light shone around them, 
enclosing them as in a circle, and the well known 
voice of Jehovah said, “Walk before me, and be 
thou perfect, and I will make my covenant between 
thee and me, and I will multiply thee exceedingly.” 
At this Abram fell on his face, and Jehovah still 


VISIT OF THE ANGELS TO SODOM. 109 

conversed with him, saying, “As for me, behold my 
covenant is with thee, and thou shalt be the father 
of many nations, neither shall thy names be Abram 
and Sarai, but Abraham and Sarah, for a father and 
mother of many nations have I made thee. I will 
make thee exceeding fruitful, and nations and kings 
shall come out of thy loins. I will make a covenant 
between me and thee, and thy seed after thee in 
their generation, for an everlasting covenant, to be 
a God unto thee and thy seed forever. And I will 
give unto thee and thy seed, all the land of Canaan 
for an everlasting possession. This is the covenant 
which I shall make, and which thou and thy seed 
shalt keep forever. Every man child that is among 
you shall be circumcised, and it shall be a token of 
a covenant between me and vou. As for Sarah, I 
will bless her and she shall have a son, and thou 
shalt call his name Isaac, and she shall be the 
mother of many nations. I will also establish my 
covenant with Isaac at this time next year.” After 
this Jehovah ceased talking with Abraham, the 
glory departed from the tent, and the patriarch 
arose and taking Ishmael, and all that were born in 
his house, he performed upon them and upon him- 
self the rite of circumcision, as the Lord had com- 
manded. 

It is the hour of noon, and under the burning 
rays of an Asiatic sun, every thing droops and lan- 
guishes in Mamre. The breeze floats so softly over 


110 THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 

the mountain as scarcely to stir the leaves of the 
most fragile flower. The flocks are gathered be- 
neath the shade of overhanging rocks on the moun- 
tain side, or have descended into the vale beside 
the still waters. The traveler forsakes the dusty 
higliAvay and seeks the shelter of the towering oak, 
or finds repose in some neighboring dell or shady 
grove. The old homestead of the patriarch, of 
which we have already spoken, was on the southern 
portion of the mountain range, about midway be- 
tween the vale of Siddim and the Mediterranean, 
and from its elevation the spectator had a view of 
the whole of the surrounding country for many 
miles. While the venerable patriarch was sitting 
in his tent door, enjoying the refreshing shade cast 
by one of the spacious trees by which it was em- 
bowered, he was startled by the sudden appearance 
of three mysterious strangers who had taken their 
station at the foot of the tree. With true patri- 
archal hospitality he immediately rose from his seat, 
and hastening to the strangers invited them to enter 
his tent for purposes of rest and refreshment. At 
this a most interesting colloquy ensued between 
Abraham and one of them, whom he soon recog- 
nized to be the Lord, the same divine personage 
that had appeared to him before, and had spoken 
words of comfort and blessing. 

O 

After the three mysterious personages had parta- 
ken of the hospitalities of his house and had 


VISIT OF THE ANGELS TO, SODOM. HI 

re-assured him of the fulfilment of the Divine cove- 
nant in regard to himself and posterity, they made 
preparations for their journey. 

But the hospitality of the patriarch did not end 
here. The sacred record informs us he took the 
three angels on their journey. Their destination 
was the cities of the plain. After traveling some 
distance, one of the three (the Lord), informed 
Abraham of the object of their visit, which was the 
destruction of these cities on account of their fla- 
grant crimes. The heart of Abraham was touched 
at their impending doom ; besides, Lot, his kinsman, 
was an inhabitant of one of these devoted cities, 
and must inevitably, with his family, share a common 
fate with their population. He therefore intercedes 
in their behalf. Knowing that the divine justice did 
not require the punishment of the innocent with 
the guilty, as illustrated by the deliverance of Noah 
and his family when the world was destroyed by 
water, he suggests that sparing mercy be exercised 
on the condition that a certain number of righteous 
men be found. But, alas, there were not five among 
all the guilty thousands, that feared God and 
wrought righteousness. Expostulation could go no 
further; he resigned the doomed cities to their fate 
and turned his face towards home. 

Sodom and Gomorrah, Admah and Zeboim, as we 
have seen, were regal cities. They were not built 
at a very early period, as we find no traces of them 


112 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


in profane history. In the same chapter of Genesis 
in which an account of the building of Nineveh, 
Rehoboth, Calah, and Resin, occurs, we find a men- 
tion of Sodom and Gomorrah as already existing 
cities. 

They occupied a spacious valley or plain, hemmed 
in by towering mountains. Through the center of 
this A^alley flowed the river Jordan. Divine inspi- 
ration in recording the beauty and fertility of the 
spot, compares it to the Garden of the Lord, or an- 
cient Eden. This description leaves a wide margin 
for speculation. Notwithstanding the devastations 
of war, these cities were filled with an immense 
population. They were surrounded by extensive 
fields of waving grain, oliveyards, vineyards, and 
immense tracts of verdure enameled with flowers 
of every hue. 

The sun Avas just sinking behind the western hills, 
and the loAving herd were returning to their peaceful 
folds, driven by their attendant shepherds, as the 
three strangers are seen descending the western de- 
clivity and directing their steps Avith rapid pace 
towards Sodom. Lot, as an elder in Sodom, sat at 
the gate to dispense justice, and the appearance of 
the three mysterious travelers arrests his attention. 
Their dress, their features, and Avhole demeanor, 
are singularly striking. Instead of sensuality and 
wickedness, Avhich so strongly marked the bold 
wanton features of the Sodomites, he beheld angelic 


VISIT OF THE ANGELS TO SODOM. 113 

purity, innocence, and sweetness. Knowing tlie 
unblushing wickedness of his neighbors, whose fil- 
thy conversation and deeds vexed his righteous soul 
from day to day, he feared lest the strangers would 
suffer abuse at their polluted hands. To offer them 
the protection and hospitalities of his house was but 
the work of a moment, and he invited them to enter 
his dwelling and take up their abode with him during 
their stay in the city. The angels seemed unwilling 
to comply with this request, and informed Lot that 
they would stay all night in the street. At this he 
earnestly pressed them to enter his house, and they 
finally yielded to his solicitations. 

Supper was provided by the family, and the 
guests having partaken, were about retiring to rest, 
when a wild, rude shout, as if from an excited mob, 
was heard in front of the dwelling. A large com- 
pany of guilty Sodomites, composed of the hoary 
headed and the young, clamorously demanded that 
the strangers be given to them. Lot went out of his 
house closing the door after him, and affectionately 
remonstrated with them, saying, “I pray you, 
brethren, do not so wickedly.’’ All his kind re- 
monstrance and entreaties were in vain. In vain 
did he plead the rites of hospitality due to stran- 
gers. One of the mob came up and in a gruff, angry 
voice, commanded Lotto “stand back.” Just then 
another of the lewd rabble exclaimed, “This fellow 
came in to sojourn with us, and he must needs be a 

8 


114 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


judge ; now we will deal worse with him than with 
the strangers.’* At this the crowd pressed in upon 
him, and came near forcing the door. Just at that 
moment one of the angels drew Lot into the house 
and closed the door, and at the same time smote the 
infuriated mob with blindness, so that old and young 
staggered round in darkness, not knowing where to 
go. Thus disarmed and disqualified for further 
attack, they made no subsequent attempts at forcing 
an entrance into the house. The angels then in- 
formed Lot of the object of their visit, and advised 
him to gather together all his kindred and make 
immediate preparation for leaving the city. He ac- 
cordingly hastened to their residences. 

It was now the dead hour of night, the rabble 
had dispersed and the streets were comparatively 
deserted, but here and there, in lordly palaces, lights 
were gleaming and the palaces shook with the heavy 
tread of the multitude in the whirl of the giddy 
dance. All was mirth and revelry. No sleep till 
morn would come upon the eyes of all those guilty 
throngs. Alas ! that it should prove the long dread 
sleep of death. From street to street Lot hurried 
on. Finding his relatives, he uttered the warning, 
“Up ! Get ye out of this city, for the Lord will de- 
stroy it.” Instead of heeding the warning, they 
looked upon him as one bereft of his senses. With 
a sad heart he left them to their fate, and returned 
to his dwelling. 


VISIT OF THE ANGELS TO SODOM. 115 

At length the night passed away, the last night 
to Sodom and its sister cities. The grey streaks 
of morning were tinging the eastern sky. A long, 
narrow line of light skirted the summit of the eas- 
tern mountain which bounded the plain of the 
Jordan. The watchmen were retiring from the walls 
of the city, and the revelers to their homes, sur- 
feited with debauchery. The only period of stillness 
for the twenty-four hours had come to Sodom ; but 
it was the stillness that precedes the storm. It was 
like the hushed stillness which nature inspires pre- 
vious to the enactment of one of her awful dramas. 

The angels arose, and taking Lot, his wife, and 
two daughters, the only inmates of the family, they 
hastened out of the city. On their route, not far from 
the base of the mountain to the south of Sodom, lay 
the city of Bela, or Zoar. The angels having con- 
ducted the family within sight of this city, said to 
Lot, “Escape, for thy life look not behind thee, 
neither stay thou in all the plain ; escape to the 
mountain, lest thou be consumed.” But Lot re- 
plied, “Not so, my Lord; behold now thy servant 
hath found grace in thy sight, and thou hast mag- 
nified thy mercy which thou hast showed unto me, 
in saving my life, and I cannot escape to the moun- 
tain lest some evil take me, and I die. This city is 
near to flee to, and it is a little one : 0, let me escape 
thither, and my soul shall live.” The angel con- 
sented, and said, “I will not overthrow this city for 


116 


THE ASTROLOUEH OF CHALDEA. 


which thou hast spoken, but haste thee, escape 
thither, for I cannot do anytliing until thou art 
there." At this Lot and his two daughters hasten- 
ed on, but his wife lingered behind. Two of her 
daughters, with all of her pleasant things, were left 
behind, and she was loth to leave the idols of her 
heart. 

The sun was just gilding the top of the mountain 
which rises above Zoar, as Lot entered its gate., It 
was a lovely morning in summer. All nature re- 
joiced in the light of day. The dew drops which 
heaven shed so gently on flower and tree during the 
night, sparkled like diamonds in the light of the 
morning sun. The birds sang sweetly as they flit- 
ted from bower to bower, and filled the groves with 
melody. All, but man, was innocent, and all, but 
man, united in ascriptions of praise to God. 

Scarcely had the whole disc of the sun become 
visible to the dwellers on the plain ere from the 
west, as if from the very depths of the great sea, 
there arose a dark and angry cloud, whose fretted 
borders were seen emerging from the summits of 
the craggy mountain which overlooked the valley 
from the west. Onward the storm-cloud uro'ed its 

O 

way. Soon the whole heavens were shrouded in 
darkness, and blackness covered the cities of the 
plain. The wolf of the mountain ran howling from 
his lair. The eagle screaming with aflright, swept 
away to her eyrie on high. The birds, bewildered. 


VISIT OF THE ANGELS TO SODOM. 


117 


flew about wildly, and ceased to sing. All nature 
joined in a wail of mourning, for tlie day of doom 
had come. That cloud was charged with wrath, 
and presently, as from a thousand batteries, there 
poured forth streams of liquid fire, which like burn- 
ing lava from a volcano, fell upon the cities of the 
plain, and instantly they were enveloped in a gen- 
eral conflagration. The palaces and dwellings and 
walls, composed as they were of highly inflammable 
materials, were all consumed in the devouring fire ; 
the very plain ignited like inflammable gas, and the 
whole valley was consumed, embracing the circuit 
of the cities. The whole area, to the affrighted 
spectator, looked like a vast cauldron of boiling pitch 
on fire, the roar of which made the surrounding 
mountains tremble. The wife of Lot, not heeding 
the admonition of the angel, but casting long and 
lina'erinof looks towards the idols of her heart which 

O O 

she left in Sodom, was caught in the outskirts of 
the storm, and to this day a pillar of salt, detached 
from the side of the mountain, near the shore of the 
Dead Sea, is pointed out by the natives as the pil- 
lar of Lot’s wife. 

Abraham, “the friend of God,” and the “father 
of the faithful,” after leaving the angels, returned 
to his home on the highlands of Mamre. His mind 
was filled with many overpowering thoughts: the 
promise of one of the celestial strangers in regard 
to Sarah, and that in his promised son all the fami- 


118 THE ASTROLOGER OE CHALDEA. 

lies of the earth should be blessed, the descendants 
of whom were to be as numerous as the stars of 
heaven, for multitude — the fate of Sodom, and Lot, 
his kinsman, all constituted themes of absorbing 
interest, and produced in his mind the most intense 
excitement. 

Passing a sleepless night, he hastened in the 
morning to the highest point of the mountain range, 
which formed the southern boundary of Mamre, and 
casting his eye in the direction of the valley of the 
Jordan, he saw immense columns of smoke rising 
up and covering the whole valley for many miles. 
It was an awfully sublime spectacle and filled the 
patriarch with awe. As he gazed upon the scene 
before him, the smoke, which was so dense, after 
attaining a certain altitude settled and appeared like 
a huge black monument which had risen up from 
the valley below, filling the entire space and forming 
an immense dome, the base of which v/as formed by 
the mountains that skirted the valley on either side. 
To Abraham this was a most melancholy sight, and 
he turned away to weep over the fate of Sodom. 


CHAPTER VII. 


PROMISE FULFILLED. 

South of the high plains of Mamre, between Ka- 
desh and Shur, -was Gerar, one of the Metropolitan 
cities of Palestine. Soon after the destruction of 
Sodom and the neighboring cities, from some cause 
or other, concerning which history and tradition are 
both silent, Abraham collected together his numer- 
ous family and possessions, and removed to this 
city. Strange as it may seem, on his way thither, 
he conceived the same device wherewith to deceive 
the king of Gerar that he had adopted to deceive 
Pharaoh, in regard to his relation to Sarah. The 
longevity of the men and women was such, at that 
early day, that though Sarah was well stricken in 
years, she had not passed life’s prime, and still re- 
tained her surpassing beauty. Indeed, if any thing, 
she was more beautiful than in her youthful days, 
age having imparted an expression and character to 
her oriental features which made her a model of 
womanly beauty. 

When the family arrived at the city, Abimelech, 
the king, no sooner saw her than, like the king of 
Egypt, smitten with her beauty, he resolved on ta- 
king her to his embrace. Learning that she was 

119 


120 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


Abraham’s sister, he ordered her to be taken to his 
palace for the purpose of making her his concubine. 
She was accordingly removed, and while the king 
was making preparation for the sacrifice of her vir- 
tue, the Almighty appeared to him in a dream and 
warned him from committing the iniquitous act by 
assuring him that if he took to his embrace a "wo- 
man whose husband was a prophet, he should be 
punished with immediate death. In consequene of 
this interposition, the king immediately summoned 
Abraham to his presence, w^hom he severely repri- 
manded for his imposition in calling the woman his 
sister, when she was his wife. The prophet alleged 
that he did it for his own safety, being apprehensive 
that had it been known she was his real wife, he 
might in order to possess her, have robbed him of 
his existence. He also assured him that she was 
his sister, for though not born of his mother, she 
was begotten by his father. The explanation satis- 
fied the king, and he restored Sarah and gave many 
valuable presents to Abraham with a full permission 
for him to settle in any part of the land. The Lord 
had not only threatened the king with death, should 
he violate the chastity of Sarah, but also afilicted 
him and all the women belonging to him with a kind 
of impotence. In return for Abimelech’s generosity 
the Patriarch prayed that the curse of impotency 
might be removed from the king and all his women, 
and the result was that all were restored to their 
natural power and fertility. 


PROMISE PULFILLED. 


121 


Having selected a beautiful region where he 
pitched his tents and planted his grove, and where 
he enjoyed all the added affluence of the king of 
Gerar, the long looked for and earnestly desired pe- 
riod arrived when the promise was to be fulfilled. 
The birth of a child is always an event which awa- 
kens the deep fountains of a mother’s love, but what 
pen can describe the sensations which thrill her soul 
when she looks upon her first born ? A cord is then 
struck which had been untouched before. Whether 
in moments of playfulness when the springs of 
young life are gushing with a wild exuberant joy, 
or in the more sanguine days of riper youth when 
life opens its gorgeous scenes to view, never before 
has she experienced such deep and overwhelming 
sensations of rapture. Before, she had loved wdth 
an affection sweet as life itself and had felt all the 
bliss of being loved, but now her einotions are of a 
new nature, at least of a higher nature ; her eye fills 
with tears while she gazes, and the blood dances 
with soft yet rapturous delight through her veins. 
In its strength and power that love may be felt 
again, but in its strange, mysterious novelty, never. 
What then must have been the feelings of Sarah, 
as, for the first time, she gazes upon the beloved 
gift of God ! They were indeed the feelings of a 
mother, but there were most glorious associations 
connected with the birth of her child. It was the 
realization of a long deferred hope, the fulfilment of 


122 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


a promise that was to embrace in its wide sweep 
the destiny of the world. As she pressed the lovely 
babe, for the first time, to her throbbing bosom, all 
the old and hallowed memories of the past, and all 
the long cherished hopes of the future came crowd- 
ing with their gushing glories upon her bewildered 
imagination, filling her with unutterable emotions. 

All was joy and gladness in the tents of Abraham. 
A joyous festal day had come, and every heart was 
glad. It was the period when the beloved Isaac 
should be weaned from his mother’s breast and re- 
ceive the seal of the covenant, of which he was the 
pledge. Abraham’s chosen men and maid servants 
were present to participate at the spacious pavilion 
of the Patriarch in the festivities of the hour. The 
dark-eyed Egyptian maid, with her wonderful son, 
was there, and the ceremonies connected with the 
religious rite were about being performed, when, in 
the sneer and laugh of Ishmael, who seemed to have 
been pre-ordained to mar all scenes of happiness by 
an opposing hand, was witnessed a contempt for the 
child of promise. This aroused the grief and indig- 
nation of the mother, who said to her husband, 
“ Cast out this bondwoman and her son, for the son 
of this bondwoman shall not be heir with my son.” 
It was uttered in a strong, peremptory tone, as it 
was not the first time offense had come throuo-h Ha- 
gar. Abraham was sad on account of his son 
Ishmael. His birth had awakened the first parental 


PROMISE FULFILLED. 


123 


feelings, and to cast him off was a severe trial of 
his hiith. But it was the will of God that this 
should be, and he made ready for the departure of 
tlie lad and his sorrow stricken mother. The scene 
that followed has been portrayed in vivid colors 
upon the canvass, and with deep pathos by the pen, 
as Hagar is represented in subdued sadness turning 
herself away to catch with tearful eye the tent she 
should behold no more — the trembling benediction 
of the patriarch father, as, with a gush of grief 
known only to a father, he presses his boy for the 
last time to his throbbing heart. 

The bondwoman and her son started out on their 
weary pilgrimage, friendless exiles in the forest soli- 
tudes of Beer Sheba. They wandered on till night, - 
not knowing whither they had strayed ; and when 
fatigued and overcome with their weary journey, 
they laid down side by side on the dewy earth, be- 
neath the quiet stars which looked forth like angel 
guardians upon the exiled sleepers. Day after day 
they journeyed on, penetrating farther and farther 
into the wilderness, and as the anxious mother saw 
the scanty provision fast wasting away, a dark pros- 
pect, a frightful image of starvation rose before her 
affrighted imagination. Still she shut it out and 
hoped in God. Onward and onward the mother and 
her boy pursue their journey, but alas, the bread 
was exhausted, the water was gone, beneath their 
feet were scorching sands, above, a burning sky. 


124 


THE ASTKOLOGElt OF CHALDEA. 


They had entered the desert and had gone too far to 
return. Night came on and the child grew faint. 
He cried for bread, but he wanted more the water, 
for his SAvollen tongue and parched lips seemed to 
say, “I must drink or die.” But yonder is a small 
clump of trees. “I must hasten to that,” said Ha- 
gar, “ere my child die.” Taking the precious bur- 
den in her arms she bends her steps towards the 
oasis. The head of the boy had scarcely fallen 
upon his mother’s shoulder ere he was fast asleep. 
Wearied nature could hold out no longer. But his 
arms are cold, and he breathes heavily. “0, my 
God,” said the despairing mother, as she staggered 
forward and laid him down under a shrub on the 
green bank, “let me not see the death of the child.” 
Going a short distance she fell prostrate on the 
ground and burst out into the most passionate ex- 
clamations of grief. 

Heaven witnessed that scene of earthly sorrow, 
and as the extremity of mortals is the opportunity 
of Jehovah, there came trembling on the still night 
air an angel voice, saying, “Arise, lift up the lad 
and hold him in thy hand, for I will make him a 
great nation.” She obeyed the Divine voice, and 
springing to her feet quick as thought, she looked 
and saw a few feet from her a fountain of water re- 
flecting the light of the stars from its pure, mirror- 
like surface. Returning with her bottle filled with 
the precious beverage, she raised her son, and with 


PROMISE FULFILLED.' 


125 


tones of love, such as only a mother can use, she call- 
ed him to consciousness and said “ Drink my son, 
for God careth for thee.” Thus revived, the glad 
mother lay down beside her boy, and refreshing sleep 
and pleasant visions imparted new life to mother 
and son, for God was with them. It was not long 
until they found subsistence, and in that very wil- 
derness where Jehovah met Hagar and Ishmael, the 
son became a mighty warrior, and it is the posses- 
sion of his descendants to this day. In process of 
time his mother procured for him a wife of her own 
kindred among the dark -eyed daughters of Egypt, 
and the exile from Beer Sheba became the wild man 
of prophecy, the father of a wandering people, as 
yet unconquered and unconquerable. But more of 
this anon. 

Not long after the great festival which was held 
by the family of Abraham, and the events which 
we have recorded in regard to Hagar and Ishmael 
had taken place, the king of Gerar, and the captain 
of his host presented themselves at the door of the 
patriarch’s tent. It appears that some strife had 
arisen between some of the subjects of the king and 
Abraham’s servants in regard to a well of water, 
and that it had occasioned a strife in which the 
Philistines had proven too strong for Abraham’s ser- 
vants. The difficulties connected with this contest 
had just come to the ears of the patriarch, and he 
was not much at a loss in conjecturing the object of 


126 THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 

this visit. The chief captain of the host had him- 
self led on the contest, and fearing lest the wrath 
of Abraham would be roused, and being well aware 
of his power as a warrior, the fame of his achieve- 
ments in rescuing the kings of Sodom from the 
combined forces of the East having reached his ears, 
he therefore comes to the patriarch accompanied by 
the king for the purpose of suing for conditions of 
peace. 

Phicol, for that was the name of the captain of 
the host, addressing Abraham, said, in behalf of the 
king, “ God is with thee in all that thou doest. 
Now, therefore, swear unto me, by the great Jeho- 
vah, that thou wilt not deal falsely with me, nor 
with my son, nor with my son’s son, but according 
to the kindness that I have done unto thee thou 
shalt do unto me, and to the land wherein thou hast 
sojourned.” Abraham then addressd Abimelech, 
and after reproving him on account of the violence 
used by his subjects in regard to the well, said, “ 0, 
king, be it according as thou wilt, I am ready to 
swear.” Abimelech replied, “I know not who hath 
done this thing, neither had I heard of it until 
now.” All things being in readiness for the cove- 
nant, Abraham took sheep and oxen and gave them 
to Abimelech, and he also took seven ewe lambs 
and set them before him. The king, not understand- 
ing this last presentation, said to Abraham, “ What 
meaneth this?” He replied, “They are a witness 


PROMISE FULFILLED. 


127 


unto me that I have digged this well.’* ** Be it so,” 
said the king, and they crossed their hands and 
swore in the presence and name of God, everlasting 
friendship for each other. After the ceremony was 
ended, Abraham called the place where the cove- 
nant was made, Beer Sheba, because there both of 
them had sworn — and such is its name to this day. 


CHAPTER YIII. 


THE TRIAL OF FAITH. 

Isaac, the child of promise, and the pledge of 
universal blessing to man, was reared by his mother 
with tenderest solicitude in the nurture and admoni- 
tion of the Lord. For several years nothing occur- 
red to mar the peace of the faithful family, or break 
in upon their joys. All was light and sunshine in 
the tent of Abraham. The young and beloved 
Isaac had passed his childhood and reached the pe- 
riod of youth, full of promise, and the idol of his 
parent’s joy. He was not only the hope of their 
declining years, but he was destined to be the hope 
of the world, as God had promised that in him all 
the families of the earth should be blessed. 

Though no cloud as yet had cast its shade over 
the bright scene of patriarchal life which we have 
been contemplating, yet a time of trial was approach- 
ing — the last trial through which the patriarch was 
to be called to pass until he should stand before the 
throne on high. As the hist and most intense flame 
which was to perfect the gold in the purifying pro- 
cess, so was this ordeal to develop the perfection of 
a faith which in all trials had never failed, and 
which was now to snine with transcendant brisrht- 

128 


THE TRIAL OF FAITH. 


129 


ness, and become the model of faith to the world, 
in all time to come. It was not for Abraham alone 
that he was to pass through the fires in glorifying 
his God. His faith was to be an example to all 
generations, and the mode of its trial was to be ty- 
pically illustrative of a great sacrifice through which 
the world was to be redeemed to God. It was de- 
signed to be the adumbration of an event the most 
glorious that ever came to the world, and the fulfill- 
ment of which would wake the symphonies of new 
harps in heaven and new songs on earth. It was to 
create an expectation which would awaken the anx- 
iety of patriarch, prophet and king, and constitute 
the grand desire of all nations. 

Abraham was offering up his sacrifice in the grove 
of Beer Sheba. The poet beautifully alludes to a 
historic fact in the religious exercises of the patri- 
archs, when he says, 

‘‘ The groves were God’s first temples.” 

There the morning and evening sacrifice would 
ascend, accompanied by fervent prayer to heaven, 
and there the Great Jehovah, in answer to the simple 
faith and in confirmation of the simple worship or- 
dained in Eden, would reveal himself and hold 
communion with the worshipper, as friend holds 
fellowship with friend. None enjoyed a more free 
and familiar intercourse with the Almighty than did 
the patriarch Abraham. He was, not only from the 

9 


130 


THE ASTKOLOGER OR CHALDEA. 


purity and strength of his faith, called ‘‘the father 
of the faithful,” but from his frequent and unbroken 
communion with Jehovah, he was designated in an 
eminent sense, “the friend of Grod.” 

It was on one of those calm and quiet evenings 
which are peculiarly adapted to meditation, that the 
patriarch having offered his sacrifice was absorbed 
in deep meditation. His prayer had been heard, 
his sacrifice had been accepted, and the Divine pres- 
ence and glory were around him. At such a time 
the mind enjoys a vivid consciousness of spiritual 
things, and shut off from external objects in its 
clairvoyant state, beholds unseen realities. The 
spiritual vision takes in its wide and far reaching 
scope, the past, the present, and the future. Never 
before did the mind of Abraham enjoy a greater ex- 
altation. The scenes through wdiich he had passed 
when God appeared to him on the banks of the 
Tigris, and his subsequent manifestations as he 
journeyed from place to place, associated with the 
wonderful providence which had presided over his 
destiny, and the remarkable fulfilment of the pro- 
mise, were all vividly before him. His faith, great 
before, was strengthened, and realities of the things 
hoped for, came up before him, and he witnessed, 
as it were, the unrolling of a grand panorama, ex- 
hibiting scenes in the life of his son, as the nations 
of the earth were blessed through his instrumen- 
tality. Ishmael was no more to him. He had part- 


THE TRIAL OF FAITH. 


131 


ed from him at the Divine command, never more to 
gaze upon his face again. His affections were now 
centered upon Isaac, the promised child — the gift 
of heaven. As the child of a glorious destiny, born 
under a brighter star than all the kings and princes 
of Chaldea could boast, his faith assured him that 
that star would not set until all the Divine promises 
were fulfilled, and that the same miraculous circum- 
stances which attended his birth would attend his 
life, and watch over his destiny. 

The reverie of the patriarch at length was broken 
by the Divine voice, which firmly but kindly fell 
upon his ear, calling him by name. To the Divine 
call he responded quickly, and said, “Here I am. 
Lord, what wouldst thou have me do.” 

“ Take thy son, thine only son, Isaac, and go with 
him to Mount Moriah, and offer him there to me in 
sacrifice.” 

Did his faith stagger ? Not for a mom^t. Dread- 
ful as was the command, he knew it was from God 
and all would end right. He felt firmly convinced 
that should he obey it, and slay his own son on the 
altar of that mountain, that God would raise him to 
life again. What Jehovah was about to do was as 
yet wrapped in a mystery which he could not now 
solve, but he was fully conscious that he would 
know thereafter when the work was done. 

He rose, and with unfaltering step and unquailing 
heart returned to his tent, to the smiles and greet- 


132 THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 

ings of his beloved Sarah and her son. No cloud 
was on his brow ; so far from it, the vision and glory 
of the sacred grove were carried into the tent of his 
beloved, and dark and mysterious as was the com- 
mand of Jehovah, his unshaken faith enabled him 
to realize a perfect submission and resignation. His 
experience was too deep in the things of God to 
cause him to falter for a moment, or produce the 
slightest shade of distrust in the providence of God. 
That night he went to rest as only those can rest 
who rest in the arms of Jehovah, and the beautiful 
visions which came to him in his sleep were only 
premonitory of the glorious issue of the trial that 
awaited him. 

In the morning he made the neccessary prepara- 
tions for his journey, and taking with him Isaac and 
two servants, with the necessary beasts of burden, 
they left for the mountain. It was a three days 
journey, and when they arrived at the foot of the 
mountain, in the vale which bounds it on the south- 
west, they called a halt and tarried for the night. 
In the beautiful vallev on the other side of this 

V 

mountainous region, Abraham had pitched his tent 
before, and it was there he was visited by the priest 
of the most high God, who, as King of Salem, had 
come down to commune with and bless him on his 
return from the slaughter of the kings on the sides 
of Mount Lebanon. 

The servants who had accompanied Abraham, 


THE TRIAL OE FAITH. 1 

and his son Isaac, to the base of the mountain, were 
commanded to tarry there until they should ascend 
its side and offer the sacrifice upon its summit, and 
return. The wood which had been gathered from 
the grove of Beer Sheba and prepared for the burnt 
offering, was now placed upon the shoulder of Isaac, 
and the father taking the incense burner, in which 
was the fire taken from the holy altar in the grove, 
he and the son commenced the ascent of the moun- 
tain. 

“ My father ?’’ 

*‘Here am I, my son.’^ 

‘‘Behold, the fire and the wood, but where is the 
lamb for a burnt offering?’* 

“My son, God will provide a lamb for a burnt 
offering.” 

Isaac was too fully instructed in the principles of 
the patriarchal religion, and too thoroughly impres- 
sed with a belief in them, to question for a moment 
the probability of such a provision on the part of 
his father’s God, and they journeyed on thoughtfully 
together up the mountain. Having reached the 
summit, and arrived at the very spot pointed out by 
Divine direction, Abraham told his son to stop and 
cast the wood from his shoulder. The patriarch 
then sat down the incense burner and the knife, and 
from the stones which covered the summit of the 
mount he reared an altar on which he placed the 
sacrificial wood. • 


134 THE ASTROLOGER OP CHALDEA. 

But where was the victim ? All was now ready, 
but no lamb was to be seen, and indeed, unless God, 
should send it, one would hardly stray so far from 
the flock as to come to that wild mountain solitude. 
At this crisis of intense and painful interest on the 
part of Isaac, who carefully watched every move- 
ment of his father, Abraham with firm and deliber- 
ate step approached his son, and taking a cord, he 
bound his hands tightly behind him and placed him 
upon the altar. 

The sacred historian did not record the farther 
conversation that passed between the father and the 
son. The probability is that the scene was enacted 
in silence, a sublime and awful silence, like that 
which reigned in heaven when the angel opened the 
seventh seal, or that silence which hung on the lips 
of Jesus when, as a lamb he was led to the slaughter. 

The dreadful tragedy proceeds. The patriarch 
takes the sacrificial knife and raises it aloft to smite 
his son, his only son, his dearly beloved Isaac. The 
father’s hand trembled not, his heart faltered not, 
as he proceeded to execute the fearful task. Just as 
the uplifted hand was about to descend and enter 
the heart of the victim, a voice, clear and loud, 
from heaven, broke the awful silence which reigned 
around and waked the echoes of the mountain. It 
was the voice of Jehovah. The same all-inspiring 
and soul-animating voice that called him from Ur 
of the Chaldees, that conversed with him in Mamre, 


THE TRIAL. OF FAITH. 


135 


and that in Beer Sheba had summoned him to this 
trial of his faith on Moriah. 

“It spoke of peace, it spoke of love, 

It spoke as angels speak above. 

For 0, it was a Father’s voice 
Which bade the faithful heart rejoice.” 

“Abraham ! Abraham !” 

“Here am I,” responded the patriarch. 

“Lay not thy hand upon the lad, neither do thou 
any thing unto him, for now I know that thou fear- 
est God, seeing thou hast not withheld thy son, 
thine only son, from me.” 

At this the father quickly cut the cords that 
bound Isaac, and looking round he saw a ram caught 
by his horns in a thicket close by, and taking it he 
offered the heaven-sent victim as a burnt offering to 
the Lord, in the place of his son. 

As the smoke ascended from the altar and rose 
up as a grateful and accepted sacrifice to heaven, 
Abraham realized that the ground whereon he stood 
was consecrated, and he called it Jehovah Jireth, as 
it is said “In the mount of the Lord it shall be 
seen.” The poet has most beautifully expressed 
the feelings of the patriarch in the description of 
the scene. 

“ He rose up and laid 
The wood upon the altar. All was done; 

He stood a moment — and a deep quick flush 
Passed o’er his countenance, and then he nerved 


136 THK AiiTKOLOfcHilU OF L'ilALDFA. 

His spirit with a bitter strength and spoke — 

“Isaac ! my only son.” — The boy looked up, 

And Abraham turned away his face and wept. 

“Where is the lamb, my father ?” 0, the tones. 

The sweet the thrilling music of a child 1 
How doth it agonize at such an hour ! 

It was the last deep struggle — Abraham held 
His loved, his beautiful, his only son. 

And lifted up his arm and called on God — 

And lo ! God’s angel staid him — and he fell 
Upon his face and wept.” 

Such a trial only he could know, and such a faith 
only he could have, and he would have passed that 
trial and clung to that faith if the earth had reeled 
from her orbit, the sun turned to darkness, and the 
moon into blood. 

The work was done, and the faith of Abraham, 
like gold seven times tried in the fire, came out per- 
fect. There was no speck or slightest alloy in his 
spotless, transparent character. His faith was ac- 
counted to him for a righteousness which all the 
works of man could not by any possibility secure, 
and he thus was made the type of the faithful in all 
ages, and the great father to the church of a prin- 
ciple which was to constitute the condition of accep- 
tance with God and the agency through which all 
spiritual good was to come to man. Springing from 
him was to come forth a seed, numerous as the stars 
of heaven, who should exhibit as their grand char- 
acteristic, and the agency through which all their 


THE TRIAL 0 ¥ FAITH. 


137 


mighty achievements were to be effected, a faith in 
the promise and oath of God, which would afford 
them the strongest consolation. It was from him 
that a descendant should spring who would turn 
aside from the throne and scepter and wealth and 
pleasures of the mightiest monarchy in the w'orld, 
and embrace a life of reproach and disgrace and toil 
and hardship, impelled thereto by a faith which 
would overleap the present and fasten as an anchor 
on the rewards of the future. By this faith men 
were to quench the violence of flames, escape the 
edge of the sword, stop the mouths of lions, subdue 
kingdoms, work righteousness, obtain promises, out 
of weakness be made strong, wax valiant in fight, 
turn to flight the armies of the aliens. Through this 
faith also women were to be nerved with an unwont- 
ed courage, and were to receive their dead raised to 
life again, and even to brave tortures, not accepting 
release therefrom, that they might receive a better 
resurrection. But time would fail to tell of all its 
glorious results as the ever progressive developments 
of it should be exhibited to the world. 

But the heavenly communication was not ended. 
Again the Divine voice is heard resounding through 
the solitude, “Abraham! Abraham!’^ 

“Speak, Lord, for thy servant heareth,” immedi- 
ately responded the patriarch. 

“By myself have I sworn, that because thou hast 
done this thing, and thou hast not withheld thy son, 


138 


THE ASTltOLOGEK OF CHALDEA. 


thine only son, from me, in blessing I will bless 
thee, and in multiplying I will multiply thy seed as 
the stars of the heaven and as the sand which is 
upon the sea shore, and thy seed shall possess the 
gates of his enemies, and in thy seed shall all the 
nations of the earth be blessed, because thou hast 
obeyed my voice.” 

Isaac had been from his earliest years instructed 
in the things of God, had always been present at the 
family devotions, and, as a young priest consecrated 
to the sacred service, had assisted his father at the 
holy altar, but never before had the voice of Jehovah 
fallen upon his ear, and while he w^as made a parta- 
ker of his father’s faith, he w^as also permitted to 
witness a confirmation of that faith in the interposi- 
tion Avhich had been made in his behalf, and the pro- 
mise and oath made to his father. Heaven-inspired, 
he felt a new life spring up within him, and the always 
bright countenance of the youth shone wdth greater 
radiance than ever it had done before. It was to 
him an era in his life never to be forgotten, and ser- 
ved more powerfully than all parental instruction to 
form a character which was to be connected with 
some of the most eventful scenes that ever occurred 
in the life of man. Ishmael was now a wanderer in 
the deserts of Arabia, the child of a wild and fear- 
ful destiny, but Isaac was a partaker of his father’s 
faith and hope, a child of the most glorious promise, 
and whose life was to be identified with the destiny 
of nations to the end of time. 


THJi TRIAL OR FAITH. 


139 


With firm and elastic step, though well stricken 
in years, the venerable patriarch with his heaven 
appointed son, descend the mountain, and taking 
their servants resume their homeward journey. 
Whether the nature of this journey was known to 
Sarah or not, the sacred historian does not inform 
us, but she doubtless waited with anxiety the return 
of the father and longed again to behold the face of 
her dearly beloved son. Though the time "was short 
he never had been absent from her sio’ht so lonof be- 
fore, and when he bounded into the tent he was in- 
stantly caught in the maternal arms and folded to 
the loving heart of the mother. 

Soon after Abraham’s return from the sacrifice on 
Mount Moriah, he received intelligence from his 
brother Nahor, whom he left in the city of Ur. It 
had now been a long time since he had left his na- 
tive land, with its magnificent cities, for a country 
life in the land of Palestine. Though he often 
thought of Nineveh and Babylon, and the scenes of 
his childhood and youth in Ur, with the circum- 
stances connected with his conversion from idolatry, 
and his call to leave the land for an unknown coun- 
try, still he had no desire to return. He had proven 
the erreat Jehovah thus far, and his faith was more than 
ever strengthened in regard to the future. The days 
of his youth had been days of blessedness and bliss 
uninterrupted. Prosperity and happiness had atten- 
ded his riper years, and now that old age had come 


140 


THE ASTROLOGElt OF CHALDEA. 


upon him he realized that his last days were his best 
days in the service of his God, Though his brother 
still chose to dwell in Chaldea, the most of his de- 
scendants had removed to Padan Aram, in Canaan, 
and it was through these that the patriarch heard 
of the condition and circumstances of him and his 
family. His children had grown up and married. 
Among the number of those who still resided in the 
city of Ur, was Bethuel, the youngest son of ISI^ahor, 
whose union with a fair daughter of Mesopotamia 
had been blessed with a child of the most remarkable 
promise. Her name was Rebekah. She had already 
passed the days of her childhood, and was fast 
blushing, as the virgin rose, into the maturity of 
womanhood. Reared under the most genial circum- 
stances, she possessed a native grace and sylphlike 
form. From a lofty brow fell on each side of her 
neck curls of dark, flowing, glossy hair. Her eyes 
were large and black, beautifully overarched by 
brows of jet, as if penciled with a master hand. 
Her complexion, though tinged by an oriental sun, 
was yet clear and transparent. She was the pride 
of the maidens of Ur, and the young men would 
seek her for a companion at the sacred festivals. 


CHAPTER IX. 


GLOOM AND GLADNESS. 

Isaac had passed the years of his minority and 
had become a man. But still he resided at the pa- 
ternal mansion, the old homestead to which his 
father had returned in Mamre, and was the stay and 
staff of the declining years of his devoted father 
and mother. Old age had brought feebleness to the 
limbs of both, and the inclined head and tottering: 
step halted to the tomb. More especially was this 
the case with the mother. She who in her younger 
days was the most beautiful of all Chaldea’s 
daughters, and who, even in maturer years surpassed 
the beauty of Egypt’s dark-eyed maidens, and whose 
dangerous charms had more than once involved 
Abraham in difficulties, such as only God could de- 
liver him from, was now wrinkled and bent with hoary 
years ; but still age had not effaced all the lines of 
beauty from that once bright and yet happy counte- 
nance. There still lingered enough to show that 
she had been cast in a liner mould than is usually 
awarded to the lot of mortals. In the estimation of 
the patriarch she was a princess still, and none 
could with her compare. But she had lived out her 

141 


142 THE ASTROLOGER OE CHALDEA. 

allotted time, and her earthly race was run. Calmly 
and gently she sunk to rest, 

“As fades a summer cloud away. 

As sinks tlie gale when storms are o’er ; 

As gently shuts the eje of day ; 

As dies a wave along the shore.” 

A holy quiet, like that of creation’s first Sabbath 
morn, pervades the plain of Mamre. It was the last 
day of summer. The groves and fields of Mamre 
wear a serene and quiet aspect, and naught but the 
chirping of the grasshopper and the coo of the 
mournful dove were heard to break the stillness. 
The patriarchal encampment seemed solitary and 
deserted, and the air of stillness which reigned 
around, save when some servant of the household 
would be seen moving noiselessly around with sad 
and dejected countenance, gave unmistakeable to- 
kens that some sad calamity had fallen upon the 

familv of the faithful. And such it was. Death 

«/ 

had invaded the encampment, and the beloved and 
beautiful Sarah was no more. The partiarch’s face 
is darkened with sorrow as he bows beneath the 
chastening rod in the tent of affliction. Alas, 
to him the sad but certain crisis had come, and 
stricken with grief, his sad heart pours forth his 
sorrows. In all, however, there was a quiet resig- 
nation to the will of God, which could not admit of 
boisterous grief. Though that beautiful form, pale 
as the snow, was devoid of life and motion, vet it 


GLOOM AND GLADNESS. 


143 


was only the casket which contained the immortal 
gem, and the spirit of the beloved was with angels 
and God. Though she the fairest of Mesopotamia’s 
daughters, who had grown up under the eye of 
Abraham in her native land, had clung to him in 
all the changes of his eventful life, the companion 
of his wanderings, the partner of his faith, and the 
comfort of his life, would tread no more among; the 
groves and flowers of Mamre, yet she had entered 
the heavenly inheritance, and would be permitted 
to glide forever 

“ Among the bowers and by the streams 
On heaven’s delightful shore.” 

The light of the tent was gone, and every head 
was bowed with sorrow, while every eye was be- 
dewed and dimmed with tears at the loss. The nu- 
merous servants of the family, old and young, were 
deeply affected at the loss of their mistress, and 
wherever the sad intelligence went, it carried 
mourning, for 

“ None knew her but to love her. 

None named her but to praise.” 

In the territory on the north of Mamre and ad- 

%r 

joining it, was a rock}'- cavern, which nature seemed 
to have hewn out as a place of sepulcher. It was 
known by the name of the cave of Machpelah. 
This grotto belonged to prince Ephron the Hittite. 
Being a beautiful and secluded spot, it occurred to 
Abraham that he would visit the neighboring prince. 


144 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


and if possible, purchase the tract of land on which 
it stood, as a family sepulcher. After the oriental 
custom of mourning for the dead was ended, he pro- 
ceeded to visit the prince and make the application 
for the burial place. On his way he met a multi- 
tude of the people of the country, who were his 
neighbors, and who having heard of the sad cala- 
mity, were coming to offer condolence. When he 
made known to them his desire in regard to Mach- 
pelah, they replied, 

“Hear us, my lord, thou art a mighty prince 
among us. In the choice of our sepulchers bury 
thy dead ; none of us shall withhold from thee his 
sepulcher, that thou mayest bury thy dead.’' 

“I ask not,” said Abraham, “for any place ex- 
cept Machpelah, and if you will intreat prince 
Ephron for me, that he will sell it to me, I will pur- 
chase it as a possession forever.” 

A messenger was soon despatched, and it was not 
long until Ephron was in the presence of the illus- 
trious patriarch. No sooner had he arrived than in 
the hearing of all the people assembled, he said, 

“My lord, I will not sell thee the field wherein is 
the cave of Machpelah, but in the presence of the 
sons of my people I will give it to thee forever 
as a place of sepulcher.” 

At this, Abraham bowed respectfully before all, 
and said, 

“If thou wilt give it, I pray thee hear me ; I will 


GLOOM AND GLADNESS. 


145 


give thee money for the field, and thou must take 
the price.” 

Then said Ephron, “ The field is worth four hun- 
dred shekels of silver, but what is that between me 
and thee. Take it I pray thee, and bury thy dead.” 

Abraham counted out the money, and handing it 
over, received from Ephron a title to the field em- 
bracing the rocky grotto and the surrounding grove, 
to be his as a possession forever. 

All the preparations having been made for the 
funeral, the numerous servants of the house joined 
in procession with Abraham and Isaac, accompanied 
by the surrounding princes, and vast multitudes of 
people from all parts of the country, and Sarah was 
borne to her rocky tomb amid the lamentations of a 
thousand voices. The last sad offices being paid to 
the dead, Abraham turned with his weeping Isaac, 
and walked trembling to his now desolate home, to 
wander awhile longer as a pilgrim and sojourner, 
and then after filling up his allotted time, to be laid 
by the side of the loved one in the rocky sepulcher 
until the resurrection morn. 

Sarah was now an inhabitant of heaven. Her 
earthly pilgrimage had ended, and she had taken up 
her abode among the spirits of the saints in light. 
The earthly tabernacle was dissolved, but she had 
assumed a spiritual form, and glided among the 
shining ranks of angels and spirits glowing with a 
beauty and filled with a rapture unknown to any 
10 


146 THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 

earthly Eden. That voice which she heard only 
occasionally, but which always made her heart 
bound with joy, now filled her soul with ceaseless 
delight. That form divine, which only once she was 
permitted to gaze upon when it was veiled in hu- 
manity, now was ever before her in unveiled glory, 
such as mortal eye could not behold. She was in 
heaven, where she saw and heard and knew all that 
her heart had desired on earth, and as from her 
heavenly sphere she beheld her weeping companion 
and her beloved son, she rejoiced to know that in a 
short time both would join her in the communings 
of that better world. 


CHAPTER X. 


THE MESSAGE TO UR. 

In the home of the patriarch all things wore an 
aspect of loneliness. The wife and mother had been 
borne to her last resting place in the silent tomb. 
Her cheerful smile no longer lighted up the tents of 
Mamre, and her encouraging voice to father and son 
was no longer to be heard in this world. As Eden 
itself would have been a wilderness without woman 
as a companion for man, so Mamre must be desolate 
without a second princess to grace its dwellings, and 
rule over them as mistress of the household. 

While on an expedition to Damascus in Syria, 
Abraham had obtained a most valued servant by the 
name of Eliezer. From his fidelity and the great 
interest which he took in all things pertaining to 
the patriarchal household, he had long since been 
promoted to the office of steward, and to him be- 
longed the oversight of all the immense treasures 
of the patriarch, as well as the control of all the 
servants and the affairs of the family in general. 
Isaac, the child of promise, had ripened into a proud 
and vio’orous manhood, and the father desired, be- 
fore he should go home and be no more among the 
living, that his son should form a matrimonial 

147 


148 THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 

coiiHOxlon with some one of his kindred in that far 
off land from whence, at the Divine command, he 
had journeyed. He desired not that any alliance 
should be formed with the inhabitants of Canaan, 
or that any of his blood should flow through the 
veins of a nation whose wickedness manifested itself 
in preferring the worship of a dumb and senseless 
idol, to that of the one living and true God; and 
hence he was concerned to witness before his depar- 
ture from earth, an event which he knew would be 
fraught with the most important consequences to a 
posterity which was destined to be numerous as the 
stars of heaven for multitude. 

Calling the faithful Eliezer into his presence, 
being fully assured that he could be trusted with a 
matter of such great moment, and knowing that he 
was interested, not only in what pertained to the 
family, but in the perpetuation of the patriarchal 
religion which he embraced, he addressed him in 
the following oriental style : 

“Eliezer, my faithful servant, place thy hand 
under my thigh and swear by the Lord Jehovah of 
heaven and earth, that thou wilt not select a wife 
for my son Isaac from among the daughters of the 
Canaanites, in whose land we dwell, but swear unto 
me that thou wilt go into my own country, Chaldea, 
and from among my kindred thou wilt make the 
choice.’’ 

“I will my Lord. Your commands shall be 


THE MESSAGE TO UR. 


149 


obeyed ; but perhaps the one I may select will not 
be willing to come with me to this land. Shall I 
then take Isaac to Mesopotamia?” 

“Nay, Eliezer, thou shalt never take my son 
thither. The splendor of the cities of Chaldea, and 
the seductive arts of her priests and astrologers I 
fear would dazzle his eyes, corrupt his heart, and 
I lead him from the worship of Jehovah. Whatever 
j thou doest, take him not thither, I adjure thee.” 

I “By what light my lord, shall I be guided in my 
: search for the one who is to be the wife of Isaac ?” 

“ The Lord God, who took me from my father’s 
house in Ur, and from my native land, who spoke 
to me and promised me this land, confirming it by 
an oath, and thus, by two immutable things in 
which it was impossible for him to lie, hath ratified 
his covenant, will send before thee his angel to 
guide thee in the way.” 

“But if she come not, my lord, what then?” 

“Thou shalt be free from thine oath.” 

“All is well.” So saying he took the oath, and 
immediately went to work to make preparations for 
a departure. 

The city of Nahor, Abraham’s brother, was Ur, 
situated as we have already seen, between the rivers 
Euphrates and Tigris. It lay in the midst of the 
plains of Aram, and hence in Scripture is called 
Padan Aram. Mamre was four hundred miles dis- 
tant from this place, and between them were track- 


150 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


less deserts and towering mountains. Eliezer took 
ten camels and several servants, with all things 
necessary for the journey, and departed. Various 
presents for the kinsman of Abraham, together with 
many and elaborately wrought jewels of finest gold 
for the fair one, were all provided ; and never was 
cavalcade more richly freighted than the one which 
was now leaving the plains of Mamre for the land 
of Chaldea. 

The direction which the caravan w^as to take lay 
south-eastwardly, and the site of the doomed cities 
was in their route. On the evening of the first day 
the train descended the mountain which skirted on 
the west and south the plain of Sodom, and as they 
cast their eyes upon the valley below, they saw 
stretching away for many miles, embracing the 
whole valley even up to the base of the mountain, 
a vast lake of dark, gloomy motionless waters. Eli- 
ezer had seen this valley before, when it was covered 
with rich pastures and dotted with magnificent 
cities. With his master he had gazed upon it when 
the Jordan flowed midway through its living green, 
and the bright rippling waters sparkled in the sun- 
shine or reflected the milder light of the moon and 
stars. But now, alas, the verdure and flowers and 
trees and cities w'ere gone, and from the surface of 
that dark, leaden, stagnant sea there was no lio-ht or 
beauty. All was desolation. The sickening sun 
looked wan, as muffled in its vapors it cast its lurid 


THE MESSAGE TO UR. 


151 


glare at departing, like a broad eye of wrath, upon 
its God-smitten waters. The bird of Paradise, 
which was wont to nestle in the bowers of this once 
“garden of the Lord,” had sought another home, 
and no living thing was seen to grow upon its banks, 
or move among the dark, overhanging, craggy cliflfs, 
which frowned back the shadoAvs of the sullen tide. 
Tide, — it had none : all Avas dead, motionless, as its 
rocky shores. All that remained of life Avas the 
small, half-deserted village of Zoar, on the side of 
the mountain Avhich the camels AA^ere noAv descend- 
ing. Lot Avas still here Avith his daughters, all 
that AA^as left of Sodom, to AA^onde” at its unhappy 
fate, and drop the tear of sympathy upon its ashes. 
Farther doAvn the mountain, and near to the Avater’s 
edge rose an incrusted monument, dark and shape- 
less, like a beacon on some dangerous coast to Avarn 
of wreck and ruin. After gazing upon the sad 
sight, Eliezer turned in to the gate and AA^as kindly 
received and entertained by his master’s kinsman 
during the night. 

Early the next morning, before the sun had as- 
cended the mountain Avhich rose up from the farther 
shore of the Dead Sea, the train Avas in motion, and 
folloAving the coast in a southerly direction a short 
distance, it entered the Avilderness, and thence ta- 
king an easterly direction, as pointed out by the 
angel guide, the company traveled on over the drift- 
ing sands and through the craggy defiles of Arabia 


162 THIl astrologer of CHALDEA. 

Petreea. It was a long and tedious journey, and 
the route was such, perhaps, as never had been 
traveled before. An angel was their guide, how- 
ever, and we may readily presume that it was the 
nearest and most practicable route that could have 
been taken. How long they were in performing the 
journey, we know not, as sacred history is silent on 
^the subject. Nor is it important that we should 
know : suffice it to say, that at length the caravan 
descended a gorge of the mountain which they had 
crossed in their journey into the broad and fertile 
plains of Mesopotamia. 

The broad, bright disc of an Assyrian sun, was 
partly concealed by the distant horizon as they 
came in sight of the long sought city. Its black 
square temple towering high above the city walls, 
on the summit of which perpetually burned the sa- 
cred fire, could be distinctly seen as if painted 
against the glowing sky. All nature wore an aspect 
of calmness and beauty — the grain, still in its early 
verdure, waved to the gentle air, while the meadows, 
thickly covered with luxuriant grass and enameled 
with flowers of every hue, were scattering richest 
perfume on every breath that fanned them. The 
shades of evening were beginning slowly to creep 
down the sides of the Tyari and envelop the city of 
Nahor in that soft haze of twilight beauty, so pecu- 
liar to eastern climes. The hum of busy industry 
was dying away, the lowing herds were returning 


THE MESSAGE TO GK. 


\63 


leisurely to their homes, and the maidens, as was 
the custom of olden time, were seen to sally forth 
gleefully with their pitchers from the massy gates, 
to draw water from the wells of the surroundins: 
grottos. 

Directed by the angel, Eliezer drew up his train 
at one of these wells, and dismounting, he com- 
manded all the camels to kneel in semi-circular 
form, with the servants at their side. This being 
done, he advanced a short distance and falling pros- 
trate upon the green sward, he exclaimed, “ 0, Lord 
God of my master Abraham, I pray thee send me 
good speed, and show kindness to my master, Abra- 
ham. Behold, I am here by the well of water, and 
the maidens of the city have come hither to draw 
water. Let it be, 0 Lord, that the one whom I 
shall ask to let down her pitcher and give me to 
drink, let the same be the chosen one whom thou 
hast selected for thy servant, Isaac. Then shall I 
know that thou hast shown kindness to my master.” 
Scarcely had the venerable servant arisen to his feet 
ere a damsel approached. “She was fair to look 
upon.” Fairest of the fair throng gathered there, 
her singular beauty of form and feature, at once ar- 
rested the attention of Eliezer. Her dark, lustrous 
eye, as she cast a glance at the stranger with his 
kneeling caravan, as the eye only can speak, com- 
municated to the soul of the faithful steward an 
intelligence not to be mistaken in regard to the visit. 


154 THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 

As she drew the water and gracefully threw back 
her curls of glossy hair, which fell in dark ringlets 
over her face, to poise the brimfull vessel on her 
shoulder, she hastened to bound away over the now 
star-lit path, back to the city. But she had not 
proceeded far until she was overtaken by the anxious 
Eliezer, who, addressing her in soft and gentle 
accents, said, 

“I pray thee give me to drink.” 

Turning round, Eebecca dropped her pitcher 
quickly upon her hand, and replied, Drink, my 
lord.” 

After Eliezer had done drinking, the kind and 
gentle damsel said, Avill draw water for thy 
camels, also, that they may drink.” By this the 
servant was assured that the wife of Isaac stood be- 
fore him ; and so overjoyed was he at the successful 
issue of his toilsome and responsible mission that 
he was silent while the beautiful damsel drew the 
water and filled the trough for the thirsty camels. 
Filled with admiration and wonder at what he wit- 
nessed, he knew not what to say, or how to act, but 
bowing himself before the Lord, he gave thanks for 
the prosperity which had crowned his mission. 
Had he not been secretly conscious when he first 
gazed upon the fair face of the beautiful stranger, 
that she was the divinely appointed one he sought, 
her benevolence and hospitality would have at once 
wrought such a conviction in his mind. No sooner 


THE MESSAGE TO UR. 


155 


had she performed her kind offices, which she did 
in an almost incredibly short space of time, than the 
liveried servant approached her and placed upon her 
arms two massive bracelets of fine gold, ten shekels 
in weight, and also presented her with other jewels 
of the richest and most elaborate workmanship. 
Then addressing her, he said, 

“Whose daughter art thou, my fair one ?’* 

“lam the daughter of Bethuel, the son of Milcah, 
my lord.’’ 

“Is there room in thy father’s house for us to 
lodge ?” 

“We have plenty of room, and an abundance for 
thy servants and camels.” So saying she departed 
for the city. ^ 

At this Eliezer again prostrated himself, and said, 
“Blessed be the Lord God of my master, Abraham, 
who hath manifested his mer-cy and truth in leading 
me to the house of my master’s kindred.” Scarcely 
had he finished his prayer until he saw a young man 
running towards him at full speed. It was Laban, 
the brother of Rebecca, who had informed him of 
all she had seen and done. Approaching Eliezer 
he addressed him thus, “ Come in thou blessed of 
the Lord, wherefore standest thou without. I have 
prepared the house, and room for the camels.” Soon 
the caravan entered the gates of the city, and giving 
the camels into the hands of the servants, Eliezer 
entered the palace of Bethuel, and it was not long 


166 


THK At^TKULOUEK. OF CHALDEA. 


until the girdle and sandals were removed, and he 
and his company were invited to partake of the even- 
ing repast. His mission, however, Avas of too great 
importance to allow him to wait until he had taken 
refreshments before making it known, and after 
introducing himself as the servant of Abraham, and 
rehearsing all the circumstances connected with his 
errand in detail, and informing them of the great- 
ness and princely Avealth of his master, he boAA^ed 
himself before the femily and asked if his master’s 
wishes could be granted. The father and son, being 
entirely satisfied that the Avhole arrangement was 
divinely superintended, nodded assent, but cast 
their eyes upon the mother and daughter. They 
were attentive ob^servers of what had been said. 
Rebecca hung upon her mother’s neck in tears, and 
the maternal bosom heaved with wild emotion. 
They were silent, but it was the silence which, if it 
may not be construed as an absolute assent to the 
proposal, at least gave strong indications that the 
objections were not insuperable, at least so the ser- 
vant understood it, and blessing the Lord God of 
Abraham, he rose from the floor, and ordering his 
servants to bring in the treasure, he poured at the 
feet of Rebecca the most costly jcAvels, drapery 
and robes, that Avealth could purchase, at the same 
time bestowing upon the mother an4 brother the 
richest presents. It AA^as now growing late, and 
after partaking of the bountiful repast spread before 
him, they all retired to rest. 


THE MESSAGE TO UR. 


157 


Morning came, and the anxious servant addres- 
sing Bethuel, said, “I pray thee, my lord, give me 
E-ebecca, that I may return with her to my master.’" 
To this Laban and the mother responded, “Be not 
in haste. Let her tarry with us for the space of ten 
days, and then she shall go wdth thee.” 

“Hinder me not, I pray thee, seeing the Lord 
hath prospered me so well. Send me away, that I 
may go to my master.” 

“We will call Bebecca and she shall answer for 
herself.” 

So saying, she was soon in their presence, and 
when the mother with faltering voice asked her if 
she was willing to leave her father’s house and 
mother’s care, for a distant land, never perhaps to 
look upon the faces of the loved ones at home again, 
she resolutely but with deep feeling replied, “The 
Lord’s will be done, I go to fulfil my destiny in the 
land of promise.” The mother’s heart was touched 
and she embraced her only daughter and wept. It 
was a great sacrifice, equivalent almost to burying 
her from her sight forever ; but she gave her up with 
a mother’s blessing. Laban approached and taking 
her from the arms of her weeping mother, embraced 
her and said, “Thou art our sister, be thou the 
mother of thousands, of millions, and let thy seed 
possess the gate of those which hate them. Go, 
my sister, and the God of Abraham and Haran and 
Nahor go with thee.” 


158 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


Soon all was in readiness for the departure. The 
servants of Abraham brought up the camels in front 
of the palace. One, richly caparisoned, was made 
to kneel, and the proudest and most beautiful of 
Chaldea’s daughters was soon in the saddle. An- 
other, and her old maid servant, who had nursed 
her from her infancy, was mounted and by her side. 
Then Eliezer and the servants mounted their camels, 
and, waving a last adieu, the gates of Ur were pas- 
sed and the cavalcade was on its way. As they 
passed the grotto and hastened over the plain, before 
the eye of Rebecca rose the scenes of her child- 
hood, never, perhaps, to be looked upon again. The 
tear came unbidden to her eyes and bedewed the 
silken lashes as she cast a last and lingering look 
upon the receding valley, upon whose peaceful bo- 
som rose dim in the distance the beloved city, her 
childhood’s home. The walls, and tower with its 
perpetual fire ascending to the god of day, were all 
that she could distinguish, and it was not long until 
a turn in the gorge of the mountain forever obstruct- 
ed them from her sight. Wild summits rose on 
either side casting their shadows on her way, and 
anon she would come out on an open space where 
she could behold, spread out before her, luxuriant 
plains with isles of foliage, and beyond, the distant 
mountains rising up against the far off sky. Day 
after day passed, and ever varying scenes presented 
themselves as she journeyed on, but in the midst of 


THE MESSAGE TO UR. 


169 


all the excitements by which she was surrounded, 
the scenes and associations of home w'ould crowd 
upon her thoughts and fill her mind with intense 
emotions. 

Under ordinary circumstances nothing could have 
induced Rebecca to have left her home and kindred 
for a land of strangers, and to take to herself for a 
companion for life, one whom she had never seen. 
But the wonderful train of events connected wdth 
the visit of the venerable servant of Abraham, and 
the interest shown by that patriarch, whose know- 
ledge and piety were held in the highest esteem by 
all the family as well as the priests and astrologers 
of Babylon, Nineveh and Ur, wove around her a 
web of destiny from which she could not escape ; 
and besides, she felt her heart strangely and w'on- 
derfully drawn out after the young stranger who 
sought her hand. She felt that she dare not resist 
the influence that was drawing her so powerfully 
away from her father’s care and mother’s love, and 
from all the hallowed associations of her childhood’s 
home. At times it seemed as if she had awakened 
from a dream, in which she had been carried away 
from home and friends to desert regions by some 
chieftain’s band, but she had returned home and 
heard again her mother’s voice and joined in the 
innocent fflee of the citv maidens ; but alas, the 

O 

surrounding desert, and dangerous defiles through 
which she was passing, would rouse her from her 


160 THE ASTROLOGKU OF CHALDEA. 

reverie and recall her actual condition. Often, after 
the fatigues of the day, had she wept herself to sleep 
in her tent, upon the faithful breast of her childhood 
nurse ; but in the midst of all she felt a calm and 
quiet resignation, and the promise of the great Je- 
hovah in relation to her future destiny would still 
the throbbings of her heart and chase her fears 
away. At length the cavalcade reaches the end of 
the desert and enters the southern borders of Pales- 
tine. 

Isaac, filled with anxiety in regard to the result 
of the journey undertaken by Eliezer, and judging 
that it was about time for him to return, had come 
down from Mamre to Lahai-roi, where there was a 
famous well. All travelers across the desert would 
stop at this well for rest and refreshment, and Isaac, 
therefore, had taken up his abode here for the pur- 
pose of waiting the arrival of his father’s servants 
from Mesopotamia. One evening, while he was 
walking out in the field which stretched down to- 
wards the desert, meditating upon the perils of the 
journey and the probabilities of success, he was 
awakened from his reverie by seeing in the distance 
a train of camels emerging from behind a cliff, on 
the side of the distant mountain. The cliff was 
thickly studded with accacia trees, and he could 
only see the long necks of the camels, with an occa- 
sional glimpse of their riders as a short turn in the 
mountain path would reveal them to his excited 


THE MESSAGE TO UR. 


161 


gaze. He saw enough to convince him that the 
long looked for train was coming, and soon would 
be in the plain. 

“Who is that, Eliezer, walking yonder in the 
field?” said Rebecca, as from the mountain path 
they saw in the distance a tall young man, of digni- 
fied mien, walking leisurely along, with arms folded 
as if in meditative mood. 

“That is my young master, Isaac. He waits our 
coming.” 

At this Rebecca threw her long thick veil over 
her face, entirely concealing her features, and the 
train hurried on. Soon the foot of the mountain 
was reached, and they entered the plain. 

The sun was tinging the tops of the distant moun- 
tains with his parting beams, and bathing the valley 
in its golden light as the travelers approached, and 
when they reached the spot where Isaac stood they 
form a circle around him, and the camels kneel 
while Eliezer and the servants bow themselves to 
the earth in obeisance to their young master. In 
feAV words Eliezer related the incidents of the jour- 
ney, and closed by introducing Rebecca, who stood 
veiled before him. Taking her by the hand, Isaac 
replaced her in the saddle, and mounting another 
camel himself, the party journeyed on towards 
Mamre. A fleet messenger from Lahai-roi had been 
dispatched to herald their approach, and when they 
arrived, which was about midnight, the groves and 
11 


162 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


tents of Mamre were illumined with a thousand 
lamps, and all the inhabitants were in readiness to 
receive the bridegroom and his bride. When Isaac 
approached with his lovely charge, the procession, 
which had come out to meet him with their torches, 
opened right and left, and alighting from their cam- 
els, followed by the faithful Eliezer and Rebecca’s 
servant, the welcome company pass into the tent of 
the departed mother, where the patriarch received, 
embraced, and kissed his daughter. Joy again had 
come to Mamre, and every heart was filled with 
rapturous delight as Abraham, with his numerous 
friends, confederates, and family sat down to the 
sumptuous bridal feast. 

Just before the solemnization of the marriage, a 
servant entered the tent, and addressing Abraham, 
said, 

“My lord, an Arabian prince and his wife are 
without, who having traveled a long and weary jour- 
ney, ask permission to tarry for the night.” 

“Let the stranger be admitted. Abraham never 
turned away the stranger from-his tent. His joy is 
too great now to hesitate in extending the rites of 
hospitality. Bid him come in.” 

Soon was ushered into the tent a tall, dark Ara- 
bian chief, whose warlike dress and nodding plumes 
contrasted well with the simple yet beautiful habit 
of his dark-eyed companion, who entered, grace- 
fully holding the skirt of her flowing robe in 


THE MESSAGE TO t'll 


16 ? 


one hand, and with the other clung to the arm of 
her husband. Abraham welcomed the stranger to 
the hospitalities of his tent, and after partaking of 
refreshments with the numerous company assem- 
bled, they witnessed the marriage ceremonies. The 
chieftain gazed upon the imposing scene with an ab- 
sorbing interest, and when at its close the venerable 
patriarch pronounced the blessing of heaven upon 
Isaac and his blooming Chaldean bride, a tear might 
have been seen to steal from the dark lashes of the 
stranger’s eye, and fall upon his slightly curled and 
tremulous lip, as he drew more closely his compan- 
ion to his side. No sooner was the ceremony over 
than the chieftain and his wife bowed a graceful 
farewell, and notwithstanding the entreaties of 
Abraham to tarry for the remainder of the night, 
they silently withdrew, and mounting their Arabian 
horses were soon lost to sight in the woods that 
skirted the distant plain. Whence came and whith- 
er went these mysterious strangers was often a mat- 
ter of "wonder to the patriarch of Mamre. 


CHAPTER XI. 


THE WILD MAN OF PROPHECY. 

IsHMAEL, tlie name given by the angel of the 
Lord to Hagar as the name of her child before he 
was born, hath much in its meaning. In the He- 
brew tongue it signifies heard of God,” or “the 
Lord careth for him.” When cast out from his 
father’s house and sent with his mother, a fugitive 
abroad, and he was ready to perish in the bleak and 
barren deserts of Arabia, his sad, despairing, dying 
moan was heard and the angel of the covenant ap- 
peared and granted him relief, assuring his mother 
that the child which she had borne, and whose des- 
tiny had been so eventful, was to be the progenitor 
of a great nation. 

We have already seen that Hagar and Ishmael, 
after the wonderful interposition in their behalf, re- 
mained in the wilderness. Though she had intended 
to return to Egypt, and was shaping her course 
thitherward as well as she knew from the directions 
given her by Abraham, the appearance of the Lord 
to her and the announcement in regard to her son’s 
destiny, determined her to remain in the desert and 
wait the openings of Providence, as the wonderful 
destiny of her only child should be unfolded. After 

164 


THE WILD MAN OF PKOPHECY. 165 

remaining a short time at the fountain in the desert, 
fearing to leave it lest they should again be lost in 
the dreary and desolate wastes around them, they 
espied in the distance a large cavalcade approaching, 
As the procession drew nearer they discovered by 
their dress and movements that they were Arabs, 
the inhabitants of the desert and the original inheri- 
tors of the land. Soon the train arrived at the 
fountain, and from the kneeling camels the Arab 
chief and his followers alighted to partake of the 
refreshing waters and refill their leathern bottles to 
supply them on their journey. They were on their 
way to the passes of the El Gbor, on the northern 
coast of the Arabian gulf, for the purpose of inter- 
cepting travelers from Egypt to Canaan and Persia, 
and of carrying on their depredations as fate or for- 
tune might dictate. They were all armed with a 
bow and spear, and wore a fierce and warlike expres- 
sion. Rough as was their exterior, and unknown as 
was their language, the military dress and the mar- 
tial air of the company instead of filling young 
Ishmael with fear, inspired him with a wild delight, 
and as he gazed upon the ostrich plumes and richly 
embroidered dress of the chieftain, who smiled upon 
him as he approached, he thought within himself 
how desirable would be such a life. He was now 
thirteen years of age and a youth of wild and reck- 
less daring. His mother was a dark but beautiful 
Egyptian, and though not so dark as her, yet he had 


166 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


her black and piercing eye and symmetrical form 
added to bold manly features for a youth of his age. 
The chief of the tribe was at once interested in the 
boy, and handing him a bow and quiver, as if to as- 
certain whether he knew their use, he soon found 
the boy was at home in the sports of the field. 
When the company were ready for departure, the 
chief addressed the mother by signs, to know if she 
would consent to suffer the lad to accompany them. 
From the interest which she saw Ishmael took in 
the strangers, and regarding it as providential, she 
consented on condition that they would take her 
along. To this the chief assented, and soon mother 
and boy, after having partaken of some dates and 
wine, were mounted on fleet dromedaries, and the 
caravan was under way to its place of destination. 

The tribe was one of the most desperate that oc- 
cupied the wilderness of Sin, and had its strong 
holds in the fastnesses of the mountains of Horeb 
and Sinai. Many a caravan of merchants had been 
attacked by the proud chief who always led on his 
band in person, and was plundered of its treasures 
after the conquest. After traveling hard all day at 
length night came on, and they pitched their tents 
for refreshment and rest. What time the chief had 
to spare from the command of his tribe he spent 
with his young favorite and his mother, and showed 
them every kindness of which an Arab is capable. 

On one occasion, after the journey of the day 


THE WILD MAN OF PROPHECY. 167 

had ended and Hagar and Ishmael were alone in. 
their tent, the latter busily engaged in stringing his 
bow and the former lost in meditation, the mother 
commenced unconsciously singing one of her child- 
hood songs, for her mind in brooding over its various 
fortunes had wandered back to its Egyptian home. 
It was in the Egyptian tongue, and scarcely had she 
finished one strain ere the chief entered in great 
haste, and addressing her in Egyptian, asked her if 
she could speak that language. To this of course 
she responded in the affirmative, as it was her mother 
tongue. Soon, to the astonishment of young Ish- 
mael, his mother and the chief were engaged in a 
rapid conversation. When the chief was but a mere 
boy he was along Avith his father’s tribe, and while 
engaged in a conflict with Egyptians he Avas taken 
prisoner, and remained in this condition until he be- 
came acquainted with the language. He Avas finally 
liberated on condition that he AAmuld remain in 
Egypt and serve the king, to Avhich he assented. 
But he sighed for his Avild mountain home in the 
wilderness and the inspiring scenes of his boyhood, 
and being unwilling to remain, though a bright ca- 
reer spread out before him, he made his escape and 
returned to the land of his nativity. His father 
havino* died, he became the chief of the Sinaitic 
tribe. In turn, Hagar related to the chief the inci- 
dents of her past life, and the circumstances which 
drove her into the wilderness. As the result of this 


168 THE AtiTliOLOGEK OF CHALDEA. 

interview the chief adopted Ishmael as his son, and 
immediately commenced teaching him the Arabic 
language, manners, and customs, with an interest he 
had never known before. 

Day after day the powerful tribe urged their way 
over the now rough and rocky road. They had left 
the sands and were among the continuous precipices 
and defiles of Arabia Petreea. At length they came 
to the terrible pass of which we have spoken. It 
was a gloomy defile, and seemed once to have been 
the bed of a mountain torrent. At the entrance of 
the chasm between the mountains which rose up 
perpendicularly five hundred feet in height, was a 
grove of cypress and accacia trees, which cast a deep 
shade from the sides, and projected over as if guard- 
ing the entrance to the valley of the shadow of death 
itself. Wild fig and oleander trees grew out of the 
craggy sides of the mountain gorge throughout its 
entire length. Masses of rock of enormous magni- 
tude seemed to have been thrown together by some 
wild convulsion of nature, forming as it were step- 
ping stones for a race of giants, on both sides of 
which towering crags overhung the abyss, which at 
some places nearly uniting overhead would shut out 
the light of day, throwing a gloomy grandeur over 
the scene below. Not far from the entrance of this 
frightful pass was a huge cavern which spread away 
into the darkness, in the recesses of which were 
many apartments. The burning sun of the desert 


THE WILD MAN OE PKOPDEClf. 


169 


penetrated not the depths of this wild mountain 
cavern, and its refreshing coolness invited the weary 
traveler to repose. Every apartment was known to 
the chief and his men, as it had been the fortress 
and hiding place of the Sinaitic tribe from an early 
day. The innermost apartment which was occupied 
by the chief was soon lighted up by lamps suspended 
from the sides and ceiling. Into this apartment 
Hagar and Ishmael W'ere introduced. The tribe, 
which was numerous, was divided into companies 
and sought their respective apartments in the spa- 
cious cavern. The camels were unladened of their 
treasures, consisting of fine linen from Egypt, silks 
and spices from Ispahan and Arabia Felix, and 
precious jewels from Hydramant. They had also 
brought with them a bountiful supply of figs, dates, 
and dried grapes, with wine, and palm and olive oil. 
This wandering tribe carried every thing with them 
necessary to afford them the most sumptuous living. 
Their tents, for which they had now no use either 
to screen them from the scorching rays of the sun 
by day or the drenching dews by night, were spread 
upon the rocky floors of their apartments, which 
being covered with the skins of Cashmere, made an 
inviting repose for the weary. 

Here, day after day as the chief would converse 
with his adopted son, through his mother, the time 
passed pleasantly away. Ishmael was becoming 
rapidly acquainted with the Arabic language, and 


170 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


was soon able to hear and answer questions asked 
him by members of the tribe, among all of whom 
he was becoming a great favorite. From this re- 
treat he would frequently sally forth with his bow on 
a hunting excursion, with some trusty Arab, among 
the mountain fastnesses, and his skill as an archer 
was often demonstrated as a wild goat or a mountain 
roe would become the victim of his steady aim. On 
other occasions he would astonish the whole tribe 
by the precision with which he would throw the 
dart, often bearing off the palm from all competitors. 
Frequently the boy, unknown to his mother and the 
chief, as if impatient of restraint, w'ould start off 
unattended and enter upon all the exciting scenes of 
the chase. On one occasion the whole tribe was 
alarmed at the apprehension that he was slain by 
wild beasts or killed by falling over some precipice, 
or perhaps taken by some warlike tribe, upon which, 
in his wanderings, he had fallen. Night had come 
and darkness reigned around. The El Ghor was 
covered with midnight gloom, but still he came not. 
Couriers were dispatched in every direction. The 
mother’s heart sank within her, and when morninor 
came bringing no tidings of the lost boy, she would 
have yielded to despair had she not recollected the 
promise of the Divine Being in regard to the destiny 
of her son. Another band was dispatched, consist- 
ing of twelve. They were divided into four com- 
panies and were to go out three east, three west, 


THE WILD MAN OF PROPHECr* 171 

three north, and three south, and enjoined not to re- 
turn until some tidings of Ishmael could be heard, 
or some clue by which he could be found. Day 
after day passed away, but they came not. Another 
band was started and another day of anxiety passed, 
but alas, no tidings greeted the ears of the watchers. 
Just as they were about again to retire for the night, 
having given up all hopes of receiving any intelli- 
gence from the lost, the loud blast of a trumpet was 
heard echoing along the mountains and winding 
through the El Ghor. The fearful suspense was 
broken. The lost was found; but whether the fear- 
less boy was living or dead none but the returning 
messengers could tell ! The blasts became louder 
and more frequent as the detachment neared the 
cavern. The chief and Hagar hastened down to the 
entrance of the pass, and soon in the light of the 
torches which illumined the valley, they beheld 
mounted on the foremost steed — a fleet Arabian 
courser — their idol boy. Though he was daring and 
reckless he had a kind and generous heart, and seeing 
his mother he bounded from his saddle and was 
caught in her arms. Dispatches were sent in the 
other directions with trumpets to recall the messen- 
gers. 

“Where have you been, Ishmael, my son?” ex- 
claimed the overjoyed mother. 

“I was taken, while hunting in the valley, by a 
wandering tribe, and carried to Ezion Geber.” 


172 


THE ASTROLUttEK OF CHALDEA. 


“Did they treat thee kindly, my son V* 

“ Kindly, my mother, and gave me that beautiful 
Arab courser and many other presents, among which 
was this sword,” -which he drew at the same time 
from its scabbard by his side, the jewels of whose 
hilt glittered in the light of the torches by which 
he was surrounded. 

“Did they wish you to stay with them?” 

“ They took me to their castle and showed me all 
its beautiful things, and told me if I would become 
one of their tribe I should be the son of their chief, 
Abdul-foi. But I told them I was the son of a 
mighty chief already. ‘Ah, but,’ said they, ‘thou 
art our prisoner, and can never return to thy father, 
nor see thy mother more.’ ” 

“How didst thou escape from the castle?” 

“ One night when all were lost in mirth and wine, 
I mounted my steed, smote down the sentinel, pass- 
ed the gate, and bounded like a deer into the 
desert. After traveling all night, just as the sun 
was breaking over the distant mountains, I beheld 
in the distance a tent on the plain, above which 
waved the flag of our tribe, and soon I was "wdth my 
friends and on my homeward journey.” 

“ God be praised, my son, for thy deliverance.” 
So saying, the assembled group repaired to the 
cavern, and there was joy and rejoicing, for he who 
had been mourned as dead was alive again, and he 
who had been lost was found. 


THE "WILl) MAN OF PROPHECY. 173 

The next day all the remaining parties that had 
been sent out in search of Ishmael returned to the 
cavern, and day after day passed away without any 
event occurring to disturb the quiet of the Arabs. 
They were evidently, however, becoming tired of 
waiting for spoils, and their wandering habits were 
such that they could not remain much longer in that 
position. The highest happiness of the tribe con- 
sisted in the excitement of an attack upon their 
warlike neighbors or the armed caravans of mer- 
chants ladened with treasures going to or returning 
from the distant east. They were growing impatient 
and restless, and having exhausted almost every ex- 
pedient to keep up that wild excitement suited to 
their warlike and wandering natures, many became 
anxious to leave the pass and start upon some fresh 
enterprize. Long since, they learned from a cap- 
tive, that on the shore of the Mediterranean sea 
there was a fortified town abounding in treasures re- 
ceived from the distant west, and from thence trans- 
ported across the country to the east, and it had 
often occurred to them that depredations could with 
ease be committed upon the caravans that would 
amply repay them for the undertaking. Encouraged, 
however, by their chief, in whom they had the most 
unlimited confidence, they concluded to content 
themselves with their present position. 

At length the long looked for period arrived. A 
sentinel at the western extremity of the Ghor, de- 


174 THE ASTROLOaKR OF CHALDEA. 

scried approaching an immense caravan from Egypt, 
laden with precious commodities for the distant 
east, and he hastened with rapid pace to make known 
the approach of the travelers to the chief of the 
tribe. 

Soon all was astir with excitement, and every 
preparation was made for an attack. Once within 
the dark pass, the Egyptians, however numerous or 
well armed, must fall a prey to the warlike Arab, 
whose skill and desperate hardihood were more than 
a match for the most thoroughly armed and power- 
ful caravan. At length the tramp of the camels’ 
feet was heard resounding along the defile and 
echoing through the caverns of the El Ghor. It was, 
as we have already seen, a frightful pass and always 
attended with danger ; forming as it did the nearest 
route to the east, by many miles, it was invariably 
chosen when the caravans of merchantmen were 
sufficiently numerous and armed for security and 
defense. Could they but succeed in getting safely 
beyond this boundary into the open desert they had 
but little to fear, as the means of defense and the 
opportunities of escape from their wild Arab ene- 
mies, were such as to inspire them with confidence 
in the success of their journey. 

But hark ! A cry is heard. The daring chief 
having sallied forth at the head of his men, with 
wild and frantic shouts attacks in front and on the 
sides, while the warriors issuing from their hiding 


fUK WILD MAII Oi’ PROPHECr. 176 

places in the dark caverns rush with fury on the 
advancing cavalcade. There was a manly and des- 
perate resistance on the part of the Egyptians, but 
in the dreadful slaughter they fell before the re- 
sistless arm of the mighty chief and his warriors, 
and unable any longer to withstand the onslaught 
of the foe, and all retreat being cut off, they gave 
themselves up, and with their immense treasures be- 
came captives, and their goods the spoils of the wild 
Arab tribe. What were left unslain were bound 
and taken prisoners into the spacious cavern, to be 
exchanged for Arab prisoners in Egypt. The camels 
were secured, and with the treasures they bore W'ere 
taken into the cavern also, where they were unla- 
dened of their spoils. The dead were borne off to 
dark and dangerous defiles, where they were cast 
down and left to moulder in the winds and rains of 
heaven, and in a few hours the pass was cleared of 
all, and no sign was left of the deadly affray save 
the dark spots, with occasional pools of blood, with 
which the rocky pavement of the pass was discol- 
ored. The descending sun was throwing its last 
faint rays of light adown the narrow opening above, 
as the wild and blood-thirsty plunder loving Arabs 
commenced their revelry and riot over the spoils of 
their Egyptian prisoners. 

But where was Ishmael, the brave and reckless 
sou of Hagar ? Did his love for his mother’s nation 
stay his hand in the conflict ? It might have un- 


176 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


nerved liis arm, or at least caused him to hesitate, 
young and thoughtless as he was, had he not reali- 
zed that he was a child of prophecy, and that Jeho- 
vah himself had decreed his destiny, the fulfilment 
of which was to be brought about by a ceaseless 
and interminable war through all his generations, 
without any regard whatever to country or kindred. 
His hand was to know no peace and his heart was 
to be nerved with a hostility that should last as long 
as he lived, and when its fitful impulses should be 
still ill death, through all his descendants, to the 
latest generation, that inborn hostility should con- 
tinue as long as nation should lift up sword against 
nation. The first lesson he received from his mother 
in childhood, as he hung upon her breast and drank 
in the bewildering light of her dark eye and the in- 
spiring tones of her rich voice, was that of the 
mysterious prophecy which betokened his fortune 
and sealed his fate. He knew enough to know that 
he was immortal till his destiny on earth was fulfilled, 
and that as a child of prophecy nothing could avert 
that destiny. 

In the midst of the deadly conflict Ishmael was 
by the side of the Arab chief, his adopted father, 
and with a strong and dexterous hand dealt merci- 
less blows upon the armed merchantmen and their 
servants. Mounted on his Arab charger, his tall 
plume was to be seen nodding in the thickest of the 
fight. Many fell beneath the sword and spear of 
that vounp jrarrior. 

* s. 


THE WILD MAN OF PROPHECY. 177 

As the young hero was rushing upon an Egyptian 
prince who was cutting his way bravely through 
the Arab band, with his daughter by his side — a 
slender but graceful and beautiful Egyptian whose 
dark eye gleamed with the fire of woman’s valor, 
and who seemed to be inspired with a super-human 
strength and fortitude as she smote off with her 
glittering sword the hand that had aimed a deadly 
thrust at her father — he saw, as the eye of the prince 
met his, something that, quick as thought, arrested 
his attention and as suddenly determined him on 
saving his life and that of his daughter. A word 
from the young chieftain arrested the arm of a swar- 
thy Arab who was just in the act of thrusting 
through with a dart the heroic princess. 

Just then a shout, which rose above the din of 
battle, was heard from the chief of the tribe announ- 
cing the cessation of hostilities and the achievement 
of a victory, and Ishmael led the prince and his 
daughter into the cavern and introduced them to the 

O 

apartment of Lie father. 

When the eyes of Hagar fell upon the young and 
beautiful priiicese, she grew pale^ and approaching • 
her with all the tenderness of a mother, she spoke 
to her words of kindness in her native tongue, and 
embraced her in her arms. The scene touched the 
heart of Ishmael, for the first time he felt emo- 
tions, strange yet Li’ssful, rise up in his soul as he 
contemplated the po .pju of the young stranger. His 
12 


178 THE ASTKOLOGER OY CHALDEA. 

had been an eventful life. He had grown up under 
peculiar circumstances, and the sad history of the 
past kept vividly before him by the hard fortunes of 
his mother, the only being on earth that he loved, had 
soured his nature and steeled his heart against man- 
kind. There was a wildness in his eye, a frown 
upon his brow, and a scorn upon his lip which ser- 
ved as the index of his heart. But the eye lost its 
wildness, and the frown and scorn were succeeded 
by a smile which overspread his features, even as 
the bright sunlight falls upon the landscape after 
the storm-cloud has passed away. Among the 
maidens of Mamre or Beer-Sheba he had seen none 
whose gracefulness of form and beauty of person 
could vie with the lovely being now before him. 
Her brave and heroic bearing in the deadly strife, 
when she seemed like an angel life-guard to her 
father, inspired him, as he gazed upon her in the 
conflict, with a reverence; but now that he saw her 
unarmed and gentle as a lamb, with downcast eyes 
whose long dark silken lashes veiled their light and 
fire, he felt an interest in her which, to him, was 
strange and inexplicable. No excitement of the 
chase, or that produced by the storm of battle, was 
half so deep and tumultuous as that which he felt 
rising within him. 

Soon the Arab chief entered, and, as we have be- 
fore seen, being acquainted with the Egyptian 
tongue, he and the merchant prince were engaged 


THE WILD MAN OF PROPHECr. 1 79 

in a conversation which was had in an under tone 
and lasted for some hours. In the midst of the con- 
versation, however, the company were served with 
a most bountiful and rich repast. 

In all parts of the cavern lights were gleaming 
from a hundred lamps, in the glare of which could 
be seen groups of warriors feasting, while around 
them scattered here and there in thick profusion, 
were bales composed of the richest products of 
Egypt’s proud capital. In dark recesses, chained 
to the rocky walls, could be seen the prisoners who 
had been taken in the conflict. 

About midnight a council of the sub -chiefs was 
called in the apartment of the head chief, and while 
they are engaged in consultation in regard to the 
prisoners and the spoils of war, we will take another 
look at the group in another apartment, immediately 
adjoining the one occupied by the council. Ishmael 
had been called with the rest, but just as he is leav- 
ing he received a soft but imploring look from the 
young princess which thrilled him through his entire 
being. It was with great reluctance he left, but 
duty called and he must obey. The interest felt by 
the mother for the young stranger seemed almost to 
equal that of the son. Scarcely had Ishmael left 
the apartment ere she folded the princess again in 
her arms and imprinted many a fond kiss upon her 
forehead and lips. Many were also the words of 
kindness and promise she poured into the ears of the 


180 THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 

now confiding maiden. Reclining upon the soft 
skin of a leopard, in a richly furnished and brilliantly 
lighted apartment that more resembled a saloon 
than a cavern, the hours passed pleasantly away. 
The maiden forgot her sorrows and her home in the 
soft endearing tones of Hagar, and ere the council 
was ended, locked fast in each other’s embrace, two 
of Egypt’s fiiirest daughters, resembling each other 
in form and features enough to have been taken for 
mother and daughter, were lost in slumber’s peace- 
ful repose. 

The reader will now with us leave the sleepers to 
their untroubled slumber, and we will look into the 
other apartment. The object of the council having 
been to make a disposition of the prisoners and the 
" spoils, it was agreed, after mature deliberation, that 
a division of the latter be made among the chiefs 
and their men, reserving the usual portion for the 
leader, and as the young chief, Ishmael, was some- 
what acquainted with the Egyptian language as well 
as the Arabic, which he had acquired with great ease 
and now spoke with considerable fluency, he should 
be sent with a detachment of the tribe to Egypt 
with the prisoners. 

When the morning came and the blast of the trum- 
pet echoing along the sides and from the vaulted 
roof of the cavern announced the hour for refresh- 
ment, Ishmael sallied forth to his mother’s apart- 
ment with palpitating heart, anxious once more to 


THE WILD MAJf OF PROPHECT. 181 

look upon the face of the fair Egyptian. Mother 
and maiden greeted him with a smile, and when he 
announced the freedom of her father and the ar- 
rangements made for tlieir return to Egypt in safety, 
she advanced and kneeling before him extended her 
hand, which he kissed with passionate fondness. It 
was agreed, also, that Hagar should accompany her 
son, and the time for departure being set and all 
things in readiness, the prisoners, with the detach- 
ment headed by the young chief, started out upon 
their journey. 

Ishmael had never seen the sacred river of Egypt. 
He had often heard his mother speak of the magnifi- 
cent palaces and mighty temples of the Nile, and 
felt a greater desire to visit No Ammon, the city of 
his mother, than he did to look upon the gorgeous 
palaces and temples of Nineveh and Babylon. Now 
that his wishes were about to be realized he felt new 
emotions rise up within him which he could not find 
language to describe, as on his Arabian steed he 
rode proudly beside the beautiful Egyptian, and con- 
versed upon various topics connected with their 
journey. 

It was not many days until, after emerging from 
the desert, the broad and beautiful valley of the 
Nile spread out before them, dotted all over with 
villas embowered in groves of orange and lemon 
trees, whose fragrance perfumed the air and filled 
the senses with a bewitching sweetness. Though 


182 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


the mind of the Egyptian maiden had been filled 
with visions of the glory of the distant east, and 
had often anticipated the pleasure she would enjoy 
in the lovely vales of Persia, the fairy palaces of 
Iran, or the dreamlike bowers of Eden on the banks 
of the Tigris, yet she realized-; after all the trials 
she had passed, that the flowers and streams of her 
native land were lovelier than all the pictured beauty 
of a distant clime. 


CHAPTER XII. 


EGYPTIAN MYSTERIES. 

After many days travel, at length the company 
drew near the capital of Egypt. The accacia, with 
its beautiful white and fragrant flowers, beneath 
whose shade the timid antelope found shelter, which 
grew in great abundance on the shore of the Red 
sea, and were to be found in occasional patches 
along the desert route, had now disappeared and 
given place to groves of palm, orange, date, apricot, 
and olive trees, which made the route of the travel- 
ers seem like a journey through a continuous pleas- 
ure garden. 

We have in a preceding chapter given a descrip- 
tion of the renowned city to which they were 
journeying. Its huge monuments rose up in tower- 
ing grandeur before them as they advanced towards 
the city from the western plain. There they stood 
in long rows, as if so many sentinels guarding the 
entrance to Egypt's proud capital. Entering the 
avenue leading into the city from the west, and 
passing between rows of sphinxes of colossal mag- 
nitude which stood at regular intervals on either 
side, they alight in front of an immense portico 
forming the western entrance to the royal palace, 

18 ? 


184 


THE ASTROLOGER OE CHALDEA, 


supported by a marble colonnade of the most elabo- 
rate and beautiful workmanship. The servants be- 
ing given over to the master of the palace, Ishmael 
and the captive merchant princes ascend the lofty 
steps, enter the audience chamber and are soon in 
the presence of the king. The signet is presented, 
and in due time the officers of the armv with the 

V 

magicians and priests, are called in council with the 
king. The Arab chief relates the circumstances 
connected with the capture of the merchantmen and 
their servants, and details the purport of his mission 
to the court of Egypt, whereupon, the king, accord- 
ing to the laws of the land, accepted the proposals 
and agreed to exchange prisoners, Arab for Egyp- 
tian, according to the number of captives. The 
father and daughter were thus restored to their 
family, and all the merchants and servants were set 
at liberty. 

When it was known that Ishmael’s mother was at 
one time a maid of honor in the royal court, 
and was remembered by many on account of her 
rare beauty and personal accomplishments, and be- 
ing thus of Egyptian descent, he was besought by 
the king to remain, who proposed at once to make 
him an officer of his court, hoping at the same time 
through his connexion with the Arabs, to secure 
protection against their incursions aiM depredations. 
On condition of his acceptance he promised at the 
same time to confer upon Ishmael any gift he might 


EGYPTIAN MYSTERIES. 


186 


ask next to the throne or heirship thereto. It was 
not to be wondered that the dazzling splendors of 
the Egyptian court, the magnificence of the palaces, 
and the great and princely gifts proffered by the 
proud king of Egypt, together with the increasingly 
strong attachment which he felt in his heart for the 
young and lovely Egyptian princess, who, with her 
father, he had rescued from Arab violence, '^came 
with overwhelming power upon his young, impul- 
sive, and aspiring nature, and seemed for awhile as 
though it would change the whole current of his 
destiny. But it was only for a moment his nature 
had to struggle with the temptation. His wild 
prophetic life rose up before him and gained the 
mastery, while the splendors of Egypt and the 
glory of its kingdom faded away in the brighter 
vision of scenes more congenial to his nature in his 
desert home. ' 

Respectfully bowing before the king he declined 
his generous proposals, and asked but one boon at 
his hands. He was willing that the Arab prisoners 
mio-ht remain in bondage and continue to toil in the 
mines of the emerald mountains where they were 
confined, if the king would only bestow upon him 
for a wife the princess whom he had restored to 
liberty. He well knew that his love for the beauti- 
ful maiden was returned by an affection pure and 
ardent as her nature, all the deep impassioned affec- 
tions of which were excited in his behalf. He knew 


186 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


she felt that should even fate separate them, yet her 
destiny was linked with his forever. Father, moth- 
er, home, kindred, wealth, distinction, were all to 
her as the evanescent vapor exhaled by the sun from 
the waters of the sacred river when compared with 
the joy and rapture which filled her whole being 
when the light of his eyes were upon her and the 
music of his voice thrilled her soul. 

There was, however, an impassable barrier to 
their union. Belonging as she did to the royal and 
sacerdotal line, none but those of her country and 
caste could hope to gain her hand in marriage, and 
so widely separated was her family from the sur- 
rounding nations, that only an honorary relation 
could be bestowed upon foreigners, and that only 
upon such as had obtained distinction in astrological 
lore. To such attainments he could lay no claim, 
and hence the cup of bliss which he. had but tasted 
was about to be rudely dashed forever from his lips. 

While the king and court were consulting upon 
the proposal of Ishmael, a venerable man among the 
magi arose, and advancing to the throne, said, 

“0 king, live forever. Is not this Egyptian the 
son of the great Abram, chief of all the astrologers 
of Babylon and Nineveh, and has not the great Un- 
known made him a priest in Mamre, and did he not, 
while residing in this palace, receive our most sa- 
cred mysteries and engage in our most solemn rites 
in the temple of the Sun?” 


EGYPTIAN MYSTERIES. 


187 


“Let the master of records search the chamber 
of rolls,” said the king, “and if thy words be true, 
then may the Arab chief be initiated in the most 
holy mysteries of our temple, and the desire of his 
heart shall be gratified — the young and beautiful 
Mirza shall be his companion forever.” 

The vouchers were in due time obtained, and the 
record not only showed the fact, but set forth that 
no astrologer could be found in the world like to the 
Archimagus of Babylon. The king commanded that 
Ishmael should be initiated at sight, and ordered 
that he should at once be prepared for induction to 
all the sublime mysteries of the temple of the Sun. 

The day at length arrived for the celebration of 
the sacred rites. The Arab chief had passed through 
all the preparatory scenes connected with the initia- 
tion, and accompanied by the master of ceremonies, 
into whose hands he was placed, and to whose 
?^idance he was given, he repaired to the temple 
vhich was at some distance from the capital. An 
avenue of gigantic monsters guarded the way to a 
huge iron gate, over the arch of which was inscribed 
in mysterious characters, “Ame hut the free horriy 
the good, and the brave, admitted here.’* The knock 
of the overseer of the outer gate is responded by a 
similar one wdthin, but in a low sepulchral sound 
that startled Ishmael with its strangeness. Pres- 
ently the massy gate swings back gratingly on its 
hinges, and they are permitted to enter. A subter- 


188 THE ASTROLOGER OE CHALDEA. 

ranean passage is before them, which they enter by 
descending a flight of steps which lead down into 
the darkness below. The lofty arches resound with 
the tread of their advancing footsteps. The caverns 
of the Ghor were light and beautiful as Eden when 
compared with this gloomy pass. After proceeding 
a short distance in silence, the guide told Ishmael 
to stop and remain still for a few moments, and fear 
no evil. The command was unnecessary, for he 
seemed to have been placed immovably, and as it 
were, enchained in the depth of a gloom and obscu- 
rity profound as ancient night. He remained not 
long in this position until dim in the distance faint 
flashes of light break for a moment the darkness 
which surrounded him, revealing fresh horrors to 
his excited mind. By these transient flashes he 
caught glimpses of monstrous phantoms and awful 
specters. He also heard near him the frightful hiss 
of serpents, and the dismal howl of wild beasts, 
which were repeated and prolonged in the distance 
by the reverberations of the hollow arches. Anon 
an interval of silence would come, which, instead of 
a relief, awakened such overpowering, awful emotions 
in his mind, that a slight rustling, or even an agree- 
able sound, made him shudder. Far in the distance 
at length he saw a revolving light, and his guide 
approaching speaking words of comfort and courage, 
they march on with measured tread. As they ad- 
vance, the light increases so as to make the objects 


KQYPTIAN MYSTERIES. 


189 


on either side visible. A change comes over the 
aspect of the place, and its decorations, the marble 
floor on which he walks trembles, and he seems to 
be raised up to a great height and then again sunk 
down into a profound abyss. Instantly he felt him- 
self drawn rapidly along*, and though unable to dis- 
cover the impulse or attraction, yet he was constrain- 
ed to obey the mysterious poAver Avhich urged him on. 
Before his eyes, while gazing upon them, the pictures 
and marble sculptures which decorated the sides, 
became animated, beautiful images seemed to shed 
tears, unwieldy and colossal statues moved and 
walked and uttered harmonious sounds. Again the 
scene changed, and awful monsters, centaurs, har- 
pies, gorgons, and serpents with an hundred heads, 
surrounded and menaced him, and with threatening 
aspect, endeavored to prevent his approach, but still 
he marched on. Phantoms bearing a perfect resem- 
blance to beings from whom he had long been sepa- 
rated and for whom he had a strong attachment, 
flitted before him and shrunk from the embrace 
Avhich they appeared to seek. 

In the midst of these exciting scenes an awful 
peal of thunder shook the foundations of the gloomy 
passage, and all again Avas darkness. When the 
dreadful sound died away, there rose upon the still 
air a voice soft and' calm as that of an angel. It 
called Ishmael by name, and inquired if he was 
willing to proceed in the mysteries of the temple. 


190 THK ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 

To this lie responded in the affirmative, when the 
unknown again addressing him in kind and gentle 
tones in the midst of the darkness, asked him what 
he most desired. Just then, and before he had time 
to reply, a burst of light above the brightness of the 
sun filled the whole passage, illuminating as with a 
blaze of day, every recess. Around him were ob- 
jects of surpassing beauty, while before him, at an 
immense distance, were enchanted gardens and pa- 
laces, the beauty and magnificence of which excelled 
all that he had ever seen or imagined before. The 
fragrance of the flowers from these gardens of the 
blest filled the air, and the rapturous songs of most 
entrancing music which came from the palaces 
could only come from Paradise. The same voice 
which spoke to him and seemed like the presiding 
genius of the place, now addressed him and unrolled 
before him the mystic book, and revealed to him its 
mysterious characters, and explained the most sa- 
cred rites. 

The ceremony was ended, and the Arabian chief 
was exalted to the sublime distinction of a magician 
of the temple ; and now all that he needed to com- 
plete his happiness was the possession of his beloved 
Mirza. What he had already realized in the revela- 
tions of the temple was sufficient to compensate him 
for all the terror and danger through which he had 
passed, but the deeper mysteries yet to be unfolded, 
added to the right by possession thereof to the hand 


EGYPTIAN MYSTERIES. 


191 


of the young Egyptian princess, were enough to 
prompt him to a still severer trial of his perseve- 
rance and courage. But to him, so far as a right to 
the inheritance he sought in the rich and imperish- 
able treasures of a woman’s love — 

“ The gates were passed 

And heaven won.” 

It was not necessary that the further light which he 
sought, and to which he was now, by initiation into 
the lesser mysteries, justly entitled, should be ob- 
tained until he should lead to the altar the idol of 
his heart, and accordingly the company returned to 
the capital. 

Every thing was in readiness for the celebration 
of the nuptials when they arrived. The king’s pa- 
lace was by the royal command, the appointed place 
for the performance of the ceremony ; and when the 
hour arrived, which was on one of those bright and 
beautiful evenings for which the valley of the Nile 
is famous, a scene of gorgeous magnificence pre- 
sented itself, which Nineveh in all its glory could 
scarcely outrival. A thousand incense-burners 
illumed the long ranges of elaborately carved Egyp- 
tian columns surrounding the court, and threw their 
light upon the grim colossal figures of the portico and 
avenues leading to and from the palace. The statues 
of the gods Osiris and Isis, Apis and Serapis, were 
garlanded with festoons of the most beautiful flow- 
ers. The throne was canopied with richest purple 


192 


THE ASTKOLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


and fine linen, and the diamonds on the crown and 
vestments of the king, like lights from eternity, 
shone with dazzling orightness. The nobility and 
beauty and pride of Egypt’s proud capital were gath- 
ered there ; but among all the gathered throng there 
were none of more noble bearing than the Arab 
chieftain, with his dark dress and nodding plumes 
and golden signet, nor any more beautiful than his 
tall, slender, graceful, and happy bride. Upon them 
all eyes were fastened as they approached the altar, 
and when they took each other’s hand as a signal of 
the union of destiny forever, there was a universal 
applause which resounded through the palace, and 
when it ceased, soft strains of 

“ Music arose with voluptuous swell.” 

And king and nobles, magicians, astrologers, priests, 
princes, and princesses, alike partook of the general 
joy. Never w'as marriage attended with greater 
demonstrations of happiness than was witnessed on 
that occasion. 

The morning after the bridal ceremony, the chief 
with his wife, attended by their servants, left the 
palace and started out on their journey in the direc- 
tion of their wild mountain home, promising to return 
igain at no distant day, the one to perfect himself 
in a knowledge of the higher mysteries of the tem- 
ple, and the other to revisit the home and friends of 
her youth. We will not detain the reader by a 


EGYPTIAN MYSTERIES, 


193 


recital of the events of the journey homeward. 
Suffice it to say, that in due time the party entered 
the Ghor, and Ishmael and his wife were embraced 
by the chief and the mother, while the whole tribe 
united in demonstrations of joy. 

Months roll away, and one scene of festivity fol- 
lowed another in the cavern. The immense spoil 
taken from the merchant princes was sufficient to 
support the whole tribe in the most luxurious living 
for years, and, no longer impelled by necessity, the 
chief felt disposed to give himself up to a season of 
rest and enjoyment. The young chief and his bride 
passed the time most pleasantly, and both engaged 
heartily in the study of Arabic. Frequently did 
they mount their steeds at the early dawn and sally 
forth along the coasts of the Red sea, and among 
its grand and beautiful scenery would they pass 
hours and sometimes whole days. 

Being on the western arm of the Red sea, they 
could descry over the bosom of its blue and beauti- 
ful waters, the rocky shore of Mirza’s native land. 
Here and there grew in wild luxuriance among the 
cliffs that lined the eastern shore, the oleander with 
its beautiful flowers. Beds of white coral sparkled 
amid the waters, and birds of bright plumage dipped 
their wings in the wave. On the east was a wide 
ocean of sand, stretching to the Elanitic gulf, with 
here and there an oasis, which resembled small 
islands covered with palm. Farther south rose 
13 


194 THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 

in dim perspective rough precipitous ranges of 
granite mountains, whose dark outlines were pic- 
tured against the sky. 

There,” said Ishmael as they journeyed onward, 
“is the mountain of our tribe. Shall we visit it and 
explore its rugged sides and towering summit. It 
is many a weary mile, but our fleet horses will soon 
bear us there.” 

“Nay,” said Mirza, “not now. We had better 
return and procure guides and protection ; besides, 
we have already been long absent, and our friends 
may be anxious for our return.” 

Ishmael yielded to the suggestion of his wife, and 
they turned their course homeward. The Ghor, 
which we have already described, lay at the head 
of the gulf of Suez, and as they were anxious to 
reach home as soon as possible, they determined to 
travel all night. Indeed, night is the most proper 
season to travel in Asia, especially in those parts of 
it which lie near the equator. The sky, for months 
together, is perfectly cloudless, and the moon and 
stars shine with a radiance unknown to a northern 
latitude. As they journeyed on, they saw in the 
distance the tires of an encampment. It lay imme- 
diately in their route, and the only way to pass un- 
noticed was by taking a sweep around it in the 
desert. But the tramp of their Arab steeds had 
been heard, and the eve of Ishmael could detect the 
warriors on the look out for their approach. Already 


EGYPTIAN MYSTERIES. 


195 


had they mounted their camels, and it could be seen 
the spears which glistened in the light of the 
camp fires that they were ready for action. Mirza 
trembled for their safety, but Ishmael drawing his 
trusty blade, drew up closely by her side and whis- 
pered “fear not. Though their numbers are too 
great for an encounter, no camels can overtake our 
steeds. We will wait until they approach, and then 
we will take a circuitous route in the desert in the 
direction of home.” The Arabs finding that the 
approaching party had stopped, immediately sallied 
forth in pursuit, and spreading out at regular dis- 
tances from each other from the coast into the 
desert, they swept along. No time was to be lost, and 
Ishmael starting at full speed, followed by Mirza, 
was soon face to face with the enemy. With his 
strong arm he smote down his foe, and they passed 
the line, and in a short time were beyond the reach 
of their pursuers. After a rapid ride of many hours 
they arrived in safety at the cavern, and were once 
more with their friends. 

Having made all the preparations necessary for 
the journey to Sinai, Ishmael and his wife started 
with a strong guard. Passing along the coast to that 
point where they entered the desert, they at length 
arrive at the spot. After a few hours travel they 
came to the pass of Wadey Sheikh. On the right 
the mountains rose gracefully and majestically, and 
the perpendicular peaks were tinted with an empur- 


196 


THE A'-TROLOGER OF CHALDEA, 


pled rosy hue by the descending beams of the even- 
ing sun. Mountains of less magnitude were around, 
frowning in rugged majesty. These were the group 
of Gebel Serbal. Having passed through this Wa- 
dey, another was entered of a more deep and gloomy 
aspect. In this dark passage not a person was to 
be seen nor voice heard except their own. On both 
sides of the pass, like that of the Ghor, the moun- 
tains hung over and seemed to meet and toppling 
stand as if a breath would bring them thundering 
down into the chasm below. In the middle of the 
pass was a huge cavern entered by a very narrow 
secret way, and known only to the Sinaitic tribe. 
It was kept from the observation of travelers by 
having the entrance entirely closed by a huge rocky 
misshapen door, which would roll back on its con- 
cealed iron hinges. Here the party halted for re- 
freshment and rest. 

Resuming their journey, in a few hours of some- 
what difficult traveling, they entered the plain El 
Raha, in the center of which rose up in gloomy 
grandeur before them the mountain of Sinai. Scat- 
tered here and there over the plain, were masses of 
rock which seemed to have been torn by some con- 
vulsion from the summit of the mountain. Inter- 
spersed here and there were accacias and palms and 
other trees, while up the sides and on the summit 
were thickly planted amid the rocks the trees of the 
mountain. Leaving the guard below, the chief and 


EGYPTIAN MYSTERIES. 


197 


his wife commeLced the ascent. Soon they leave 
the gorge, and the beetling crags are above them, 
and clefts and caverns all around them. Steeper and 
steeper becomes the ascent, and finally their path lay 
between impending masses of vast magnitude, ter- 
minating above, and still farther on, by two arched 
gateways, the latter of which introduced them to a 
plain, covered with towering cypress trees. But 
they had scarcely entered upon their toilsome jour- 
ney. Above and beyond were sharp hanging rocks, 
clefts, and caverns leading the way up to the tower- 
ing summit. At length, after incredible exertion, it 
is gained, and there on the narrow peak the vast 
region of mountain scenery spread out in terrific 
, grandeur around them. On every side, as far as the 
eye could reach, the white rocks and sands of Ara- 
bia Petraea glistened in the sun, while far to the 
southwest the blue waves of the Arabian sea seemed 
to mingle with the distant sky. Neither had ever 
beheld such grandeur and sublimity before, and, 
inspired with the scene, they prostrated themselves 
in adoration before the great God of heaven. After 
exploring the summit, they descended and joined 
the company they had left behind at the base of the 
mountain. Refreshments being in readiness for 
them, they partook, and returned to the secret cavern 
in the Wadey, where they passed the night, and 
next morning started on their homeward journey. 

At length having arrived at home they gave 


198 THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 

themselves up to quietness and study, occasionally 
partaking of the scenes of excitement and amuse- 
ment around them. 

Once, in company with his wife and a detachment 
of Arabs, being desirous of revisiting the oasis in 
the desert and again beholding the spot where he 
was saved from death by the angel, and where the 
tribe found him and his mother, Ishmael started out 
into the vast Arabian desert. The oasis lay on the 
borders contiguous to the land of Canaan, but the 
desert must be crossed to reach it ; and as numerous 
warlike tribes infested it in various parts, it was 
necessary that he should be prepared for defense, 
though in the main there was a common brother- 
hood subsisting among the Arabs, yet, when they 
could not plunder, they would attack each other, 
and the conquerors would take the spoil, but with 
as little loss of life as possible, and without taking 
any prisoners. 

It was while on this excursion that Ishmael saw 
in his solitrry ramble in the afternoon of a sultry 
day, not far from the oasis where his company was 
encamped, a caravan in the distance crossing over 
to the desert of Beersheba in the direction of Lahai- 
roi. Returning quickly to his tent he gave orders 
to his tribe to remain until he should return, and 
taking Mirza, they mounted their steeds and soon 
were in pursuit of the caravan. They ascertained 
at the well Lahai-roi that the company had received 


EGYPTIAN MYSTERIES. 


199 


fresh camels and had started on in great haste to 
Mamre. Fleeter steeds never bore human beings 
than carried the chief and his beautiful Mirza, and 
better riders were never mounted in the chase than 
were the two who followed after. What they saw 
and what they heard, and how long they remained 
after their arrival at the tents of the venerable pa- 
triarch of Mamre, is given in a preceding chapter. 


CHAPTER XTII. 


f 


DEATH OF ABRAHAM. 

Time rolled on, and during its progress many in- 
cidents occurred in the Siniatic tribe through whose 
power and influence, gained by successive victories, 
nearly all the vast desert became subject to its 
sway. Through the force of its arms, tribe after 
tribe joined its standard, its castles and fortifica- 
tions became so numerous and powerful, especially 
in Rocky Arabia, that it was only by the payment 
of a heavy tribute effected through the negotiations 
of Ishmael with Egypt and Persia, that caravans 
were allowed to pass through the country. By this 
means the Arab Chieftains became not only strong 
and powerful but vastly opulent. 

Ishmael had become a mighty chief, and at the 
death of his adopted father succeeded to the highest 
rank in the tribe. He had, in the mean time 
returned to Egypt, and in due order had received 
all the mysterious rites of the temple, thereby form- 
ing an enduring alliance with the astrologers, 
priests, and magicians of that nation, which lasted 
to the end of his eventful life. He had built for 
himself a magnificent castle among the rocks, and 
there, when free from the toils of war, he spent his 

200 


DEATH OF ABRAHAM. 


201 


time in the bosom of his family. The promise of 
Jehovah made to his mother when she Avas an 
outcast from Mamre, and before he was born, had 
in part been fufilled. The joyous shout of children 
met his ears as he ascended to his mansion, and in 
them he beheld a generation which was to succeed 
him, numerous as the stars of heaven, unconquer- 
able as the sirocco that swept the desert, and 
irresistable as the whirlwind that rent the moun- 
tains. For their future fate he could have no 
anxiety. His faith in the Divine promise, already 
so wonderfully fulfilled, assured him that they like 
himself, were children of a destiny that no earthly 
power could set aside. 

Hagar’s eventful life was drawing to a close, but 
up to the latest hour did she watch with a mother's 
care over the training of her descendants, shaping 
their young and tender minds for that great drama 
of human life in which they were to be principal 
actors. Each of the sons of Ishmael was to become 
the head of a nation, and their descendants were to 
occupy the land until the end of time. 

Desiring, as she did, to close her life at the 
fountain where Jehovah had appeared to her, and 
where the life of Ishmael was so wonderfully pre- 
served, she was accompanied by the chieftain, his 
wife, and their children, with a detachment of 
Arabs, who, by short and easy passages bore her 
across the desert to the wilderness of Paran. Here 


202 THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 

a tent was pitched for Hagjjr and the family, and 
every attention that filial kindness could bestow, 
was given to soothe and comfort the weary mother 
in her last hours. Day after day she partook of 
the reviving waters, but she continued to decline 
and grew weaker and weaker until the hour of 
dissolution approached, when she sank as sinks the 
evening sun in the unbeclouded skies of Araby. 

Every voice was hushed in the tent of affliction, 
as softly and silently the last sleep stole over her 
senses. Affection could not stay her, or the sweet 
voice of her daughter would have arrested the spirit 
in its flight as she breathed gently into her dying 
ear the accents of love. 

Farewell, thou wandering child of sorrow, — thou 
hast at last found an unbroken slumber. The God 
who saw thee and succored thee when an unbe- 
friended outcast alone in the wilderness, has taken 
thee to himself, and in that better world where 
jealousies are forgotten and rivalries are unknown, 
thou shalt dwell in peace forever. 

The days of mourning being ended, on the spot 
Avhere in agony she fell when her beloved Ishmael 
was supposed to be dying, her grave was made. 
Over this sacred spot Ishmael caused a temple to 
be erected, which he consecrated to the worship of 
his mother’s God. This place of hallowed memo- 
ries was afterwards known by the name of Mecca, 
which in the Arab tongue, means a place of great 


DEATH OF ABRAHAM. 


203 


resort in consequence of the numerous pilgrimages 
made to it from all parts of Arabia. No deadly 
strife had ever occurred here. Hostile bands here 
met as friends and brothers, drank together of the 
waters, and reposed in its shade. Here, in after 
years, Mahomet the prophet, a descendant of Ish- 
mael, was born, — and here, after his long and bril- 
liant career, he w^as buried, while his tomb is 
yearly visited by innumerable pilgrims even unto 
the present day. 

But we must now return to Mamre, — to the 
family of Abraham. Sarah slept in quiet repose 
among the rocks and evergreens and flowers of the 
consecrated Machpelah, and Abraham had taken to 
himself other companions to comfort him in the 
w’earisome journey of life. Isaac and Rebecca had 
been blessed of the Lord with children of wonder- 
ful promise and equally wonderful destiny. They 
had removed to the patriarchal possessions at Lahai- 
roi, and through the powerful influence of his 
father, Isaac had become a mighty prince in Pales- 
tine. He possessed a calm and quiet disposition, 
uniting the gentleness of his mother with the 
urbanity and self-possession of his father, and 
nothing afforded him greater happiness than to rule 
over his own household and cultivate amity and 
I peace with the surrounding princes. While the 
voice of his exiled brother was for war, and his 
very name was a terror to the dw'ellers in the desert 


204 THE ASTROLOGEK OF CHALDEA. 

and all who traversed its wastes, his was the voice 
of peace, and his friendly alliances embraced the 
entire country. Abraham had also other sons born 
to him which in after years became heads of 
nations, men of various destiny scattered abroad. 
In process of time his already extensive possessions 
became vastly enlarged, and the astrologer and 
exile from Chaldea became one of the mightiest 
princes of the East. 

His pilgrimage, however, was about to close, and 
having done the errand of his destiny on earth, he 
w^as about to join his beloved in heaven. He had 
now reached the age of one hundred and seventy- 
five years, embracing a period of several genera- 
tions, and after having witnessed more in the 
eventful history of his life than any who had pre- 
ceded him, and having more involved in that 
history, so far as human destiny was concerned, 
than was ever before or since known to man, he 
made all due preparation for his departure from 
earth. That he might make that disposition of his 
estates, which to him seemed right and proper, he 
summoned all his descendants to the paternal abode 
at Mamre. 

The proud heart of Ishmael the eldest and conse- 
quently the first-born of the patriarch, when 
through the intelligence of messengers, he learned 
that his younger brother Isaac was to inherit the 
vast estates of his father, and he, with the remain- 


DEATH OF ABRAHAM, 


206 


der of the sons, were only to receive gifts, refused 
to be present on the occasion, and sent one of his 
chief officers to inform his father that he needed 
not his gifts nor his protection, as God had given 
him the whole of Arabia, and if he chose he could 
make Palestine subject to his sway. The intelli- 
gence troubled the patriarch not a little, as he 
recollected how he had sent the mother and his boy 
fugitives abroad in the desert. That all motives 
for an invasion of the territory of Isaac, whose 
pacific disposition would lead him to make any 
sacrifices for peace, might be removed out of the 
way, Abraham conceived the idea of sending his 
other sons into the distant East. Accordingly, 
after having bestowed upon them princely gifts 
according to their age, he pronounced upon them his 
blessing and sent them away. He would gladly 
have looked upon the face of his son Ishmael again 
before bidding adieu to the world, but from what 
he had learned of the Arab wildness of his disposi- 
tion, he entertained no hopes of ever beholding 
again his first born. Isaac was to him now his 
only hope, and as the child of promise miraculously 
preserved, but not more so than Ishmael, the child 
of destiny, he was the consolation of his declining 
days. With all the tender solicitude of an affec- 
tionate child, Isaac watched his declining hours. 
Rebecca, also, the dutiful and affectionate Rebecca, 
never left the side of the dying patriarch. 


206 THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 

On one of midnight’s loneliest hours, when every 
voice was hushed and all was still in Mamre, Isaac 
and Rebecca were watching with intense anxiety 
the last flickering rays of life that gleamed from 
the sunken eyes of the patriarch as he lay stretched 
on the couch of death. He had given them his 
parting blessing and had turned away to breathe 
his last, as two strangers, a man and woman, dressed 
in Arab costume, entered the tent and walked softly 
to the side of the couch. From their dress and 
manners, the former of which displayed a richness 
and elegance, and the latter an ease and grace 
which are rarely met with, they evidently be- 
longed to the higher caste of Arabian nobility. 
After gazing for a moment upon the unconscious 
patriarch, the Arabian turned to the weeping Isaac 
and said. 

Does my father live ?” 

A moment, and brother was in brother’s embrace," 
and Rebecca and Mirza following the example, were 
locked fast in sisterly affection. The expressions 
of surprise and tenderness which occurred at that 
hour, however, passed not the dull cold ear of 
death. The patriarch had gone to the spirit world. 
It was not for him to gaze upon a scene which 
would have caused his heart to rejoice in the midst 
of affliction and death, but he had passed away to 
that world where nothing is hidden from the pure 
bright vision of the departed. ' 


DEATH OF ABRAHAM. 


207 


When morning came, the sad news of death was 
borne in every direction. Every tent bore the 
traces of affliction and sorrow, and Mamre was clad 
in mourning as when the beloved Sarah died. 
Death, however, came not as he often comes, with 
angry brow and relentless arm, to smite down youth 
in all its flower of pride and loveliness. The rosy 
health of youth’s soft cheek was not made to decay 
by his blighting touch as when the angel of death 
spread his wings over Sodom or the camp of tlie 
proud Assyrian, but like summer’s softest sweetest 
sigh that shuts the rose, the spirit of Abraham was 
wafted away when full of years and ripe for immor- 
tality, to the home of the blest. 

The days of mourning being ended, preparations 
were made for the funeral, — and to pay the last 
tiibute of respect for the memory of the prince and 
patriarch of Mamre, the former friends and allies 
of Abraham assembled from all parts of the coun- 
try. Princes from Arabia, Astrologers and Magi 
from Egypt and Chaldea and Persia, came to the 
funeral. At length the solemn procession is in 
motion, and sad strains of music fill the air as the 
multitude wind through the grove in the direction 
of Machpelah. First in the train following the 
hearse are Isaac and Rebecca, then Ishmael and 
Mirza, with the numerous relatives of both families, 
and their children. Then followed the sons of 
Abraham bv Keturah, and their wives and children, 


208 THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 

after which came the Astrolog'ers, Magicians, and 
Priests of different lands, and last of all the numer- 
ous servants of the patriarch. It was a solemn 
scene, and as the procession entered the rocky 
cemetery, in the deep shade of which was the 
family vault which contained the ashes of the long 
departed Sarah, Isaac and Ishmael lifted up their 
voices and wept. The vault being opened, and all 
things being in readiness for depositing the relics 
in their last resting place on earth beside those of 
his beloved Sarah, the funeral chant began, which 
was followed by solemn and mysterious rites, when 
all that was earthly of him who led the most 
eventful life and exhibited the most remarkable 
faith, having obtained a name which has come 
down through all succeeding generations as the 
friend of God” and the “father of the faithful,” 
was committed to dust. 

Slowly and sadly the procession returns, and the 
various companies which had assembled from 
various parts of the land return to their respective 
homes, solemnly impressed with the scenes they 
had witnessed, realising that it was better to go to 
the house of mourning than to the house of mirth, 
and that by the sorrows of earth the heart is made 
better. After remaining: a few davs the descendants 
of Abraham separate for their homes. Isaac and 
Ishmael, Rebecca and Mirza, take a last and fond 
adieu, never to look upon each other’s faces again 


DEATH OF ABRAHAM. 


209 


in this world. They had met but once before since 
Ishmael’s cruel exile, but that was in the house of 
mirth, when all was joy and gladness, when the 
favorite son was united to the blooming’ and highly 
favored bride. They met when a father’s blessing 
rested alone upon an idol child, upon whose destiny 
no evil star shed its baleful influence, and when the 
proud heart of the ill-fated Ishmael for a moment 
was tremulous with emotion, and then was filled with 
stern and settled rage, but not despair, for he too 
was a child of destiny, and wildly he went out to 
fulfil that destiny in the desert land. But now 
they meet again, not that Ishmael may be excited 
to jealousy and revenge, for he is a prince among 
his equals, and needs neither patrimony nor favor 
from man. He had already cut his way through 
mountainous difl&culties up to the highest point of 
earthly renown, and his name was known, honored, 
and feared, from the Euphrates to the Red sea, and 
from Sinai to the gates of Damascus. Through his 
swift-winged messengers he had kept himself ad- 
vised of the declining health of his father, and from 
time to time was apprised of his approaching 
dissolution, and he had of his own free will and 
accord come to see him die. He "was his father 
still, though he had sent him away from home and 
friends, and he had a generous heart as well as a 
daring hand. But he came too late to meet with 
recognition. The darkness of death was on the 
14 


210 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


father, for he had entered the valley and was cross- 
ing death’s river ere the son arrived. Thus 
Ishmael and Isaac met, and now they were forever 
to part and never to meet again until they should 
meet in the communings of another world, where 
all that separates us here can have no existence. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


THE CHILD OF PROMISE. 

After the days of mourning for his father had 
ended, and all matters pertaining to the immense 
possessions to which he had fallen heir, Isaac, with 
a sad and heavy heart, left Mamre with all its 
scenes connected with his childhood and youth, 
and the hallowed associations which every where 
came crowding around him waking sorrowful remin- 
iscences of departed joys, never, alas, to return, 
and took up his abode at Lahai-roi. The dead, 
though left, were not forgotten. Often would his 
mind wander to that cool sequestered rocky cave on 
the mountain range where slept in undisturbed 
quiet and solitude his loved though lost father and 
mother. 

He was the promised, child, and through him the 
covenant made by Jehovah with his father was to 
descend, and whose family in its far-reaching 
branches was to spread itself out and possess the 
land from the river of Egypt unto the great river, 
the river Euphrates, the Kenites and the Kenizzites 
and the Kadmonites and the Hittites and the Periz- 
zites and the Rephaims and the Amorites and the 
Canaanites and the Girgashites and the Jebusites. 

211 


212 


THi£ ASTROLOGKR Oi’ CHALDEA. 


Prior, however, to the occupancy of this vast 
country, the descendants of Isaac were to pass 
through various fortunes ; they were to be strangers 
in a strange land, where they w^ere to be reduced to 
a state of vassalage, and groan for centuries under 
the yoke of cruel tyrants until the power of God 
should be magnified in their behalf, and they should 
be delivered from bondage and enter upon their 
God given inheritance. 

Soon after the arrival of Isaac at Lahai-roi, or 
Beersheba, the great Jehovah appeared to him Avhile 
engaged in offering up the evening sacrifice, and 
said, “Go not down into Egypt; dwell in this land 
which I shall tell thee of. Sojourn in this land 
and I will be with thee and will bless thee, for unto 
thee and unto thy seed I will give all these coun- 
tries, and I will perform the oath which I swore 
unto Abraham thy father, and I will make thy seed 
to multiply as the stars of heaven, and I will give 
unto thy seed all these countries, and in thy seed 
shall all the nations of the earth be blessed.” 

Twenty years had now passed away since the 
marriage of Isaac with Rebecca, and although to 
him was the promise renewed and through him was 
a nation numerous as the stars of heaven for multi- 
tude to spring, yet he had no children. It required 
a faith like to that which was exercised by his 
father in the divine promise, and although every 
thing wore a gloomy aspect in regard to its fulfil- 


THE CHILD OF PROMISE, 


213 


ment, still he staggered not at the promise which 
had in his own person been so far confirmed. By 
him the fight of faith was manfully fought, and in 
fervent prayer and humble reliance upon Jehovah, 
Avhose wonderful interposition in the behalf of his 
father sustained him in the conflict, he believed 
on. At length the time came for its fulfilment, 
Rebecca became pregnant, but there were circum- 
stances connected with that delicate condition of a 
more painful character than usually fell to the lot 
of Oriental women. So extreme were her sensa- 
tions that she sought relief at the divine oracle, 
and in consultation received the startling intelli- 
gence that she should be delivered of two children 
who should be the heads of two distinct powerful 
nations, and that the contest in which they should 
engage for superiority had already begun ere yet 
they Avere born, as prophetic of their future history, 
and that in process of time the one first born should 
yield to the superior force and poAver of the other. ^ 
The time of her deliA^erj’- at length arriA'ed; the 
child that first entered the Avorld was covered Avith 
red hair, and he Avas from this circumstance called 
Esau, which in the HebreAv tongue signifies hair 
cloth. The birth of the other immediatelv succeed- 
ing and so closely that he touched his heel with his 
hand, Avas a circumstance which gave rise to 
another remarkable name, and he was called by his 
father, Jacob, which signifies the supplanter of his 


214 THK ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 

brother. Notwithstanding the wonderful revelation 
made to Rebecca in regard to the destinies of her 
children, involving as their lives would an immense 
amount of anxiety and trouble to her maternal 
heart, still they were alike her children, and she 
rejoiced over them with all the fullness of a 
mother’s love. As they grew up around her and 
she beheld their infant minds expand under her 
parental training, and in their young and innocent 
glee they were happy in the light of her smile, the 
thought of the future, when those now guileless 
hearts would be filled with envy and hatred toward 
each other, and those soft gentle tones would grow 
harsh and angry, and those delicate hands hardened 
into manhood would be lifted up in deadly strife, 
would fill her mind with sad and melancholy fore- 
bodings. 

The days of their youth had come, and father, 
mother, and children were happy in the endearments 
of their peaceful home. They could not but wit- 
ness a great dissimilarity in the temper and habits 
of their sons. The first born had rough and ruddy 
features; with a fiery spirit and bold if not reckless 
daring he would sally forth to the wilderness with 
the hunters to join the chase. The other was of 
calm and peaceful disposition and sought his happi- 
ness in the quiet retreats of home. His features, 
unlike those of his elder brother, were mild and 
comely, indicating a mind unsuited to the tumults 


THE CHILD OF PROMISE. 


216 


and hardships of life. His chief desire seemed to 
be in the domestic quiet of home, and his mother^s 
society was more to him than all else beside. The 
gentleness of his disposition and the quietness of 
his demeanor were such as to endear him to his 
mother, who watched over him with maternal 
tenderness, and often manifested for him a greater 
partiality than for the wild and daring Esau. The 
elder brother was, notwithstanding his roughness 
of aspect, the pride of his father, who was delighted 
at his bravery and the success which crowned his 
efforts in the excitements of the chase. The affec- 
tion of the father was requited by the son, who 
often brought him from the forest of Beersheba the 
products of his skill as a hunter in the savory 
venison which loaded the table of the patriarchal 
tent. 

An event occured about this time, which, while 
it developed the character of Esau and Jacob, at 
the same time was connected with events of a more 
remarkable character in their future history, on 
account of the important bearing which it had upon 
their destiny. Scripture history informs us that on 
a certain occasion, as Esau returned from a long 
and toilsome chase weary with fatigue and hungry, 
as he approached the tent of his father, he met his 
brother who was just about to partake of a savory 
mess of red pottage which had been prepared for 
him. On account of its redness it was called 


216 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


Edom. Approaching his brother Jacob, weak and 
faint for want of food, he thus addressed him. 

“Feed me, I pray thee, with that same red pot- 
tage, for I am faint.’* 

To this humane request Jacob replied, “ Sell me 
this day thy birthright.” 

Almost dying with hunger, having been long 
away and unsuccessful in the chase, Esau replied in 
his extremity, “Behold, I am at the point to die, 
and what profit shall this birthright do me ?” 

“^wear then to me,” said Jacob, “this day.” 

Esau took the fatal oath and sold his birthright, 
and partaking of the pottage and lentiles, he de- 
parted. 

We may ask what were the rights of primogeni- 
ture or titles or distinction or wealth to a man 
perishing with hunger if they cannot procure for 
him assistance in that dreadful hour. And we may 
ask what the kindness and hospitality of a brother at 
home in plenty who could take advantage of such a 
dire necessity and rob his brother of his rights? 
Alas, that such gentleness and amiability of dispo- 
sition should at once, as if by some infernal 
alchemy, be changed into a sordid selfishness that 
could, like a canker, eat out of the soul every 
generous impulse and kindly emotion. Strangely 
mysterious is this transaction in the life of the 
descendants of that patriarch through whom all 
earth’s families were to be blessed, and who were to 


THK CHILD OF PROMISE. 


217 


be the channels through which were to flow in 
unceasing streams a universal love and good will to 
man. 

After this event, Esau -was called Edom from the 
nature of the pottage, as has already been re- 
marked. He had sold his birthright, and feeling 
little interest in a home where his mother and 
brother had consorted against him, he hasted to the 
wilderness of rockv Arabia, and in the mountains 
of Sin, which stretch in wild and gloomy grandeur 
along the southern extremity of the Dead sea, and 
include the northern portion of what is denominated 
Arabia Deserta, he halted with a view to make it 
his abode. He was now in the confines of the 
country of Ishmael, his father’s brother, and having 
met some of the wandering tribes of that wild 
chieftain in his hunting excursions, he sought, now 
that he was an exile from home, to unite his for- 
tunes with that wild and fearless people. After a 
long and weary journey he arrived at length at the 
rock built castle of Ishmael, and making himself 
known to his uncle, with the circumstances connected 
with his exile, he was received by him with marked 
hospitality and treated in a princely style. Nor 
was he long in proving himself worthy of the 
alliance, for in many of the journe3'S of the tribe to 
which he was attached, did he give evidence of a 
skill and bravery in the chase and in the fight, 
which won the hearts of all. Intelligence of his 


$18 THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 

heroism soon reached the ears of Ishmael, and he 
felt proud of such a kinsman. This attachment 
increased until a period arrived in which an oppor- 
tunity was afforded him of giving still stronger 
evidence, by granting the hand of his daughter, a 
young and beautiful maiden, in marriage to the 
young and noble hearted Esau. The chieftain at 
once promoted him to the head of a tribe and 
assigned him possessions in the mountains of Seir, 
from which circumstance the country was afterwards 
called Edom. 

But we must return to the family and fortunes 
of Isaac. Though engaged extensively in the 
cultivation of the earth, and having numerous flocks 
and herds, men servants and maid servants, like his 
father, his resources w^ere exhausted by a famine 
which prevailed in the land, and like his father he 
resolved on moving to Egypt, always the land of 
plenty, for no matter how wide spread and desola- 
ting was the famine which reigned in the countries 
of the East, Egypt’s granaries never were exhausted, 
the unfailing waters of the Nile causing the land to 
yield her increase. Gathering together his moveable 
property, consisting of servants and cattle, he de- 
parted. When he had arrived on his route at the 
town of Gerar, a city belonging to the Philistines, 
he was admonished by Jehovah not to go down into 
Egypt, but to remain where he then was, assuring him 
that he should be secured from all the consequences 


■rilK CHILD OP PHOillSJC. , 219 

of the famine ; have plenty to subsist upon, and in 
obedience to the oath which he had sworn to his 
father Abraham, would cause his descendants to 
multiply exceedingly, and possess the whole land 
of Canaan. 

Accordingly, in obedience to the Divine com- 
mand, he resolved to take up his residence at Gerar. 
He had agreed with his wife Rebecca to resort to a 
stratagem which presents the same strange and 
remarkable species of deception which was adopted 
by his father at the same place and from precisely 
the same motives. The coincidence is wonderful, 
and if Isaac had been made acquainted with the 
conduct of his father, and the reproof which he 
received of the Lord for such an unwarrantable 
procedure, we are at a loss to know how to explain 
it. But so it was : fearing that his wife, on account 
of her beauty, would be sought for by the king of 
Gerar, who had the power of appropriating all the 
handsome females of his kingdom to his own use, it 
was agreed between them that she should pass for 
his sister. The deception worked admirably for a 
time, and nothing could be seen in the familiarity 
which existed between them that would indicate 
any other relation than that by which they passed 
as brother and sister. For a long time he dwelt in 
peace and safety in Gerar, and nothing occurred to 
interrupt the happiness of the patriarchal family. 
At length, however, suspicions were awakened that 


220 THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA, 

all was not as it seemed, and that a more intimate 
relation existed between Isaac and Rebecca than 
would justify the assertion that they were only 
brother and sister. To satisfy himself fully in re- 
gard to this point the king resolved to watch their 
movements closely, and beholding on a certain 
occasion as he looked through his window a scene 
which could not with propriety transpire only be- 
tween husband and wife, he was confirmed in the 
belief that Isaac had deceived him, and accordingly 
summoned him to his presence. 

“Behold,” said the king, “of a surety she is thy 
wife, and how saidst thou, she is my sister !” 

“ I said she is my sister because I should have 
been slain for her.” 

The kino* then issued a command that whosoever 

O 

should touch Isaac or his wife should surely be put 
to death. 

A certain portion of the land was assigned to 
him, and he prospered exceedingly, so much so that 
in the same year his land brought forth an hundred 
fold, his servants and flocks and herds also increased 
astonishingl}^ and his possessions became vast, so 
much so that he was envied by the Philistines. 
Such was their animosity that they filled up the 
■wells which his father Abraham had dug during his 
residence in Gerar. So great was his influence and 
power, that the king becoming fearful that his 
further continuance would be a source of trouble, 


THE CHILD OE PROMISE. 


221 


said to him “ Go from us, for thou art much mightier 
than we.” Upon this Isaac removed with his 
family and took up his possessions in a valley 
adjoining the town of Gerar. The difficulties, 
however, which existed between his servants and 
those of the king still followed him, and such was 
the unhappy state produced by the unfriendly 
collision, that he finally determined to return to his 
old home at Beersheba. 

Scarcely had he arrived at his home than, as an 
indication that the movement was a right one, the 
Lord Jehovah appeared unto him and renewed the 
covenant in the following words. “ I am the God 
of Abraham thy father; fear not, for I am with thee 
and will bless thee and multiply thy seed for my 
servant Abraham’s sake.” 

Here he erected an altar and offered up his sacri- 
fices, and under the divine auspices all things 
pertaining to his family went on prosperously. 

The friendship which existed between Isaac and 
the king of Gerar was not interrupted, notwith- 
standing the difficulties which existed between their 
servants, and it was not long until an opportunity 
presented itself for renewing that fi’iendship. Ta- 
king with him one of his friends and allies together 
with the captain of his army, the monarch of Gerar 
paid a visit to Beersheba, and seeking the presence 
of Isaac, they presented themselves as his friends. 
That he might not be left to conjecture in regard to 


222 


THE ASTROLOaEU OE CHALDEA. 


the motives which prompted the visit and the object 
they had in view, and that the mind of Isaac might 
be perfectly at rest in relation thereto, they imme- 
diately laid before him the design of their visit. 

“We have seen,’^ said they, “that the Lord 
Jehovah is with thee, and we desire that a covenant 
should be entered into between us, and as we have 
done thee no harm, having sent thee away in peace, 
we ask that an oath may be taken of a friendly 
alliance.” 

The proposition was well received by Isaac, and 
having now an opportunity of reciprocating the 
hospitalities which he had enjoyed at the hands of 
the king, he ordered a sumptuous feast prepared, 
and the allies delighted themselves in the social 
entertainment thus provided. — Having accomplished 
the object of their visit, early one morning, with 
the blessing of Isaac and his house, they departed 
to their homes in peace. 

We now return to Esau. Having as we have 
already seen, been received with great favor by the 
chieftain of Arabia, and having been admitted into 
his family and promoted to the chieftainship of a 
powerful tribe, he started out with his young and 
heroic wife, bearing away with him the blessings of 
his father and mother, to enter upon his possessions 
in the mountains. The region of country in which 
he settled was wild and rocky, being composed of 
long mountain ranges, frightful chasms, steep and 


THE CHILD OF PROMISE, 


223 


dangerous precipices, with here and there vast 
amphitheaters opening out from narrow valleys, and 
rising up on either side hundreds of feet. One of 
these amphitheaters of rock was entered by a 
narrow pass scarcely sufficient to allow two horse- 
men to pass abreast. From the sides of this avenue 
the rocks rose up to a height of five hundred feet. 
This was the only entrance and outlet. Within, 
the surface was level, with here and there fissures 
in the rocky pavement, while 'around on every side 
the rocks rose up perpendicularly to the same height 
of those in the narrow entrance. Out of the open- 
ings in the rocks, both in the pavement and around 
the sides, grew in great abundance wild fig trees 
and luxuriant vines, with here and there oleanders, 
whose beautiful flowers contrasted strangely with 
the bald granite rocks from which they sprung. 
For safety or pleasure no retreat could offer greater 
inducements to a desert wanderer in the whole 
range of the wild and rocky country which came to 
the possession of Esau. As it had been formed by 
the hand of the Creator as an abode for man, while 
it furnished in its enormous bunches of grapes and 
large luscious figs, the richest food to satisfy his 
hunger, a pure and perpetual stream of sparkling 
water issued from the base of a perpendicular cliff 
and meandered through the amphitheater, finding 
an outlet in the narrow pass we have already 
described, quenched his thirst. 


224 


THE ASTKOLOGER OE CHALDEA. 


Here in this city of Rock, as it was afterwards 
called and which name it bears to this day, Esau, 
with his lovely and beautiful wife and numerous 
warriors, took up his abode. In this mountain 
home he was visited by Ishmael and Mirza, and 
many were the happy days spent in each others 
society. To render the place still more desirable, 
Ishmael sent to Egypt for artificers in stone, and 
out of the mountain sides which rose up around 
them, were excavated a ro3"al palace. To this were 
added other dwellings for the tribe, and tombs for 
the dead were constructed, as also a temple for the 
worship of Jehovah, the God of Abraham, and 
Isaac, and Ishmael, as well as Esau and Jacob. So 
famous did the city of Rock become, that in after 
years being visited by Pharaoh who had in his 
family become allied with the descendants of Esau 
or Edom, the proud king of Egypt had a temple cut 
out of the rock, which bears his name and stands 
perfect to this day. Additional ornaments were 
made to grace the city, and among these were 
triumphal arches in commemoration of victories 
achieved by Esau and his warriors. 


CHAPTER XIV. — Continued. 


While the king of Edom, for the country was 
now called by his name and he was every where 
hailed as its ruler, was engaged in extending and 
fortifying his territory by well disciplined warriors, 
a messao-e came to him from Beersheba. It was 

O 

from his father, who had now grown old, and who 
feeling the infirmities of age creeping upon him, 
realized his near approach to death. Before his 
departure from earth he was desirous of once more 
enjoying the presence of his first born, and impart- 
ing to him his dying blessing. Though Esau had 
a rough exterior he had nevertheless a kind and 
generous heart, and he could not but feel kindly 
towards his aged father. Accordingly, having 
made the necessary preparation, he started on his 
journey towards his childhood home. While on 
his way as he passed through the wilderness of 
Beersheba, where he had spent his boyhood days in 
the wild sports of the chase, the recollection of 
his brother’s unkindness and the advantage he took 
of his necessities were brought to his mind with 
painful vividness. Notwithstanding he had been 
deprived of his birthright, yet, so wonderfully had 
he been prospered in his way, occupying as he did 
1 6 ' 225 


226 


THE ASTROLOGER OE CHALDEA. 


a position of power and influence vastly superior 
to his brother, that he had long since dismissed 
the thought, and had not the scenes through which 
he was passing called up the recollection of the 
event, he would not have allowed the act of Jacob 
to have disturbed his wonted tranquility of mind. 

At length he arrives at the old homestead, and 
the patriarch being apprised thereof, requested that 
he be brought immediately into his presence. He 
desired to receive him alone, and Rebecca the 
mother, aware of the intent for which he had sent 
for him, placed herself in a position where she 
could overhear all that was said. This she was 
enabled to do the more readily from the fact that 
Isaac through age had become blind. No sooner 
had a servant announced his presence in the private 
chamber and departed, than the following conversa- 
tion ensued: 

“Esau, my son.” 

“Behold, here I am my father.” 

“Behold, now that I am old, I know not the day 
of my death. Now, therefore, take, I pray thee, 
thy weapons, thy quiver and thy bow, and go out 
to the field and get me some venison and make me 
a savory meat, such as I love, and bring it to me, 
that I may eat, that my soul may bless thee before 
I die.” 

“I will, my father,” and so saying, he departed. 

All this was communicated to Jacob by his 


THE CHILD OF PKOMISE. 


227 


mother, and being determined to thwart the pur- 
poses of Isaac and bring the blessing which he 
intended for Esau upon his idolized brother, she hit 
upon the following expedient, illustrative of her 
strong partiality as it was of the ever fruitful mind 
of woman : she directed Jacob to go to the field and 
kill two kids and dress them, bringing her the 
skins. When he returned she prepared the mess of 
savory meat, and taking the skins, she so cut and 
fitted them upon the hands and neck of Jacob as to 
make him resemble his brother ; then taking the 
raiment which Esau had left in his haste when he 
departed from home in quest of his fortune in a 
strange land, she placed the savory mess in his 
hands and told him to go and give it to his father. 

When he appeared in the presence of the blind 
patriarch, he thus addressed him : 

‘‘My father!'*’ 

“Here am I, who art thou my son?” 

“I am Esau, thy first born; I have done accord- 
ing as thou badest me; arise, I pray thee, sit and 
eat of my venison, that thy soul may bless me.” 

“How is it that thou hast found it so quickly, my 
son ?” 

“Because the Lord thy God brought it unto me.” 

“ Come near, I pray thee, that I may feel thee 
my son, whether thou art my very son Esau or 
not.” 

At this Jacob cautiously approached liis father, 


228 THE ASTKOLOGEii OF CHALDEA. 

who dll feeling his hands exclaimed, “the voice 
is Jacob’s voice, but the hands are the hands of 
Esau. Art thou my very son Esau?” 

“I am.” 

“Bring the venison near to me and I will eat of 
it that my soul may bless thee.” 

Jacob accordingly brought the dish and placed it 
near his father, at the same time giving him wine, 
which he drank. 

After he had finished the repast he called Jacob, 
still suppossing him to be Esau, and said, “ Come 
near now and kiss me, my son.” He approached 
and kissed him, and smelling the odor of Esau’s 
raiment with which the deceiver was clothed, he 
exclaimed, “the smell of my son is the smell of a 
field which the Lord hath blessed, therefore Jehovah 
give thee of the dew of heaven, and the fatness of 
the earth, and plenty of corn and wine. Let people 
serve thee and nations bow down to thee, be lord 
over thy brethren, and let thy mother’s sons bow 
down to thee. Cursed is every one that curseth 
thee, and blessed is every one that blesseth thee.” 

Scarcely had the blessing been pronounced and 
Jacob departed from the presence of his father, ere 
Esau returne-d from the hunt with the venison. 
Having prepared it he carried it to his father, and 
placing it before him, said, 

“ Let my father arise and eat of his son’s venison, 
that thy soul may bless me.” 


THE CHILD OP PROMISE. 


229 


“Who art thou?” 

“I am thy son, thy first born Esau.” 

The fearful truth now flashed upon Isaac^s mind 
that he had been deceived, and his whole frame shook 
with agonizing emotion. 

“Who?” he exclaimed, “where is he that hath 
taken venison and brought it to me and I have eaten 
before thou earnest, and have blessed him ; yea, 
and he shall be blessed.” 

The words of the father fell with crushing weight 
upon the heart of Esau, and he cried out in the 
bitterness of his soul, “Bless me, even me also, 0 
my father !” 

To this Isaac replied, “thy brother came with 
deceit and hath taken away my blessing.” 

“Is he not,” said Esau, “rightly named Jacob, 
for he hath supplanted me these two times ; he took 
away my birthright, and behold now he hath taken 
away my blessing; but O my father hast thou not 
reserved a blessinsf for me ?” 

“Alas, my son, I have made him thy lord, and 
all his brethren have I given to him for servants, 
and with corn and wine have I sustained him, and 
what shall I do now unto thee, my son?” 

“ Hast thou but one blessing, my father ? Bless 
me, even me, also, 0 my father !” 

These words were uttered with passionate earnest- 
ness, they were more than the patriarch could bear, 
and in the fullness of his heart he exclaimed, “Be- 


230 THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 

hold, thy dwelling shall be the fatness of the earth 
and of the dew of heaven from above, and by thy 
sword shalt thou live and shalt serve thy brother, 
and it shall come to pass when thou shalt have the 
dominion, that thou shalt break his yoke from off 
thy neck.” 

For the first act of Jacob by which he had taken 
advantage of the necessities of Esau he was for- 
given, but for this last act Esau was too greatly 
incensed, and though he would not embitter the last 
days of his father by seeking revenge, yet, so soon 
as he was dead and the days of mourning for him 
were ended, he would slay him. Rebecca, fearing 
such a result, sent Jacob to her father’s house in 
Assyria. Here he married two wives, and remained 
for a period of twenty years. Esau returned to 
his home in Edom. 

Some difficulties arising between Jacob and 
Laban, his father-in-law, he determined to leave 
Assyria with his wives and flocks and herds, and 
return to Canaan. He had been twenty years 
absent from his native land, and now that he was on 
his return, the various scenes through which he 
had passed were vividly presented to his mind. 
The inhumanity and unrighteousness of his conduct 
in taking advantage of his brother’s necessities, 
robbing him of his birthright, and his subsequent 
deception practised upon his blind old father by 
which he deprived Esau of his blessing and secured 


THE CHILH OF PROMISE. 


231 


it for himself, came up before him, and associated 
as the recollection of his conduct was with the 
injustice perpetrated upon him by his uncle, he 
could not but feel that he had deeply wronged and 
injured his brother. Under such impressions, as he 
approached the confines of Edom on his journey, he 
became greatly troubled. This was greatly in- 
creased by being stopped in one of the passes of 
the Seir mountains by a troop of Arab warriors, 
who only allowed him to proceed on his journey by 
his claiming kindred with Esau. In his mind again 
was revived the fear of Esau, whose threat prompted 
him to leave home and go to Assyria. In this 
state of perturbation he resolved on sending an 
embassy to Esau for the purpose, if possible, of 
allaying his resentment, and securing conditions of 
peace. Accordingly, he sent his brother the 
following message : 

My lord Esau, thy servant Jacob saith thus, I 
have sojourned with Laban and stayed there until 
now. I have oxen and asses, and men servants and 
maid servants, and I have sent to tell my lord that 
I may find grace in his sight. 

But the warriors who had intercepted the path of 
Jacob in the mountains had apprised Esau of his 
approach, and supposing that his father was dead, 
for he had heard nothing for a long time from 
Beersheba, he took a chosen band of four hundred 
warriors and went out to meet him. The messen- 


232 


THE ASTKOLUGEK OE CHALDEA. 


gei’s sent oy Jacob had not proceeded a great wa^ 
on their journey until they met Esau with his army, 
and being made acquainted with his intentions, 
they hastened back to inform Jacob. The intelli- 
gence was of a startling and terrific character, and 
he scarcely knew what could be done. As no time 
was to be lost, he resolved upon the following: — 
Taking one half of the people and the flocks and 
herds, he sent them in advance, with the following 
presents for Esau, namely, two hundred she goats 
and twenty he goats, two hundred ewes and twenty 
rams, thirty milch camels with their colts, twenty 
she asses and ten foals. Each drove was to be kept 
separate, and they were directed forward. When 
they approached the army of Esau, which halted as 
they came up, the chieftain addressing the first 
servant, said, “Whose art thou, and whither goest 
thou.’’ “These,” replied the servant, “are thy 
servant Jacob’s, and all are a present sent unto my 
lord Esau, and behold he also is behind us.” As 
the droves passed in succession the servants uttered 
the same language. When night came, he took his 
wives and maid servants and eleven sons, and sent 
them over the ford Jabbok, and he was left alone. 
In the darkness and solitude he engaged in suppli- 
cation and prayer. Thus he prayed, “0 Jehovah 
of my father Abraham, and of my father Isaac, 
who saidst to me, return into thy country and to 
thy kindred, and I will deal well with thee, I am 


THE L’HILD OF I*liOMISE. 


233 


not worthy of the least of all thy mercies, and all 
the truth which thou hast shown unto thy servant, 
for with my staff I passed over this Jordan, and 
now I am become two bands. Deliver me, I pray 
thee, from the hand of my brother, from the hand 
of Esau, for I fear him, lest he will come and smite 
me and the mother with the children. Thou saidst 
I will surely do thee good and make thy seed as the 
sand of the sea, which cannot be numbered for 
multitude.” While thus engaged in prayer, an 
angel appeared, and in his great distress and anguish 
of soul he seized hold upon him, believing him to 
be the angel of the Lord, and determined not to let 
him go until he should be assured of deliverance 
and safety from the wrath of Esau. The angel told 
him to let him go, at the same time struggling to 
escape ; but Jacob clung with a death grasp, and so 
great was the conflict, that his thigh was thrown 
out of joint. “Let me go,” said the angel, “for 
the day breaketh!” “I will not let thee go,” said 
Jacob, “except thou bless me.” 

“What is thy name?” said the angel. 

“My name is Jacob.” 

“ Thy name shall be no more Jacob, but Israel, 
for as a prince hast thou power with God and hast 
prevailed.” 

“But what is thy name?” said Jacob. 

“Wherefore is it that thou dost ask after my 
name?” — and he blessed him there. After the 


234 THE ASTllOLOGEH OF CHALDEA. 

angel departed, Jacob exclaimed, “I have seen 
Jehovah, face to face, and m}^ life is preserved.” 

When the sun rose over the Jordan, Jacob beheld 
Esau advancing with his four hundred men, and 
taking his handmaids and their children, and going 
before them, they all approached Esau. Soon as he 
was near enough to be recognized, Jacob bowed 
himself seven times. The kind heart of Esau 
never failed him, for no sooner did he see his 
brother in this attitude, than he dismounted and 
ran and fell upon his neck and embraced and kissed 
him. In the sight of those stern mountain warriors 
and the multitude of servants around, those brothers 
lifted up their voices and wept. After this the 
wives and children and servants all came forward 
and bowed to Esau, who received them with the 
same kindness he had his brother. After the inter- 
view was ended, Esau, at the urgent solicitations 
of Jacob, took the presents which he had provided, 
and returned to his home a happier if not a better 
man. 

Jacob continued his journey and concluded to 
select a desirable location in the valley, where he 
built a house and made booths for his cattle. This 
place was afterwards called Succoth. . Here he 
remained for some time and increased his prosperity, 
until it occurred to him that he would remo\e to 
Shalem, a city of Shechem in the land of Canaan. 
Here, adjoining the city, he purchased land and 


THE CHILD OF PROMISE. 235 

erected an altar which he called El Elohe-Israel. 
In consequence of family difficulties, he was directed 
of the Lord to leave his place of residence and go 
to Bethel, where Jehovah had appeared to him in 
his flight from his enraged brother Esau. Here he 
erected an altar which he called El Bethel. While 
here, Jehovah appeared unto him and said, “Thy 
name is Jacob, thy name shall not be called any 
more Jacob, but Israel shall be thy name. I am 
God Almighty ; be fruitful and multiply, a nation 
and a company of nations shall be of thee, and 
kings shall come out of thy loins, and the land 
which I gave Abraham and Isaac, to thee will I 
give it, and to thy seed after thee will I give the 
land.’^ 

After this interview Jacob set up a pillar in com- 
memoration of the event, and consecrating it by 
libations of oil and wine, he removed from Bethel 
and started for Edar. On the journey, Rachel, one 
of his wives, was delivered of a child, and as she 
survived its birth but a short time, it was called 
Benoni, but the name was subsequently changed to 
Benjamin. This was the first death in the family, 
and many were the tears and loud the lamentations 
of its numerous members. The place at which this 
melancholy event occurred was Bethlehem, and 
after she had been deposited in the grave, Jacob 
erected a pillar over the spot to mark the resting 
place of his beloved. From this sad spot he jour- 


236 THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 

neved oil until lie reached his destination and 
pitched his tent a short distance beyond the tower 
of Edar. 

While here, intelligence reached him of the death 
of Isaac, his father, who had removed from Beer- 
sheba to the old homestead of Abraham his father, 
at Mamre. Immediately on the receipt of this sad 
intelligence he dispatched messengers to Esau in 
Edom, informing him of the melancholy event, and 
requesting him to join him at Mamre for the purpose 
of paying the last rites to the remains of their 
departed father. Every thing being in readiness, 
Jacob gathered together his family, consisting of 
Leah and her sons Beuben, Simeon, Levi, Judah, 
Issachar and Zebulon, and the sons of Rachel, 
Joseph and Benjamin. He also summoned the sons 
of his concubines, Dan, Naphtali, Gad and Asher, 
and departed for Mamre. 

The journey was a rapid one, and in due time the 
company arrived at Mamre. Scarcely had they 
rested from the toils of travel ere it was announced 
from the tent of affliction that Esau and his com- 
pany, on fleet Arabian chargers, were seen coming 
in the distance. The brothers met again in a fond 
fraternal embrace and shed their tears of anguish 
over the lifeless remains of their father. All 
paitookof the grief of that hour. It was necessary 
soon to bear the remains to their last resting place, 
as Isaac had now been dead several days. Accord- 


THE CHILD OF FKOAIISE. 


237 


ingly, a procession was formed, composed of Esau, 
Jacob, their wives and children, and the friends of 
the patriarch in the surrounding country who had 
come to the funeral, and with slow and solemn 
step they marched to the cave of Machpelah, where 
Abraham and Sarah had been entombed long years 
ago. After the obsequies Avere ended, the families 
started for their respective homes. 

Jacob’s possessions were now immense, and he 
devoted his attention mainly to the cultivation of 
the soil. This was accomplished by his many 
servants, while his numerous flocks and herds were 
principally kept by his sons. Joseph, the first born 
of Rachel Avho had died, Avas iioav seventeen years 
of age. He was a youth of great promise, of fine 
manly though delicate proportions, and of singular 
personal attractions. On these and other accounts 
he Avas greatly beloved of his father, Avho frequently 
manifested for him an undue partiality. Whether 
to distino'uish him from the rest of his brethren 

O 

Avhen at a distance in the field, or to impart to him 
a dignity aboA^e them, is a subject concerning which 
the sacred record is silent, but so it was, that Jacob 
had a coat made for Joseph of several colors. The 
faA'oritism thus shoAvn by the father became an 
occasion of eivy and hatred among the brothers 
against Joseph, and it AA^as Avith difficulty that they 
could treat him with any respect or kindness. This 
animosity and hatred was increased to a still greater 


238 THE ASTROLOUEK OE CHALDEA. 

extent by the following circumstances : — It seems 
that Joseph had two dreams, in one of which he 
found himself in a field binding sheaves, and the 
sheaf which he bound rose from the earth and stood 
upright, while those bound by his brethren stood 
round about and made obeisance to it ; in the other 
dream he saw the sun and moon and the eleven 
stars do obeisance to him.” These dreams he 
related to his father and brethren. The father 
rebuked him, saying, “ Shall I and thy mother and 
thy brethren, indeed, come to bow down ourselves 
to thee to the earth?” The brethren indignantly 
replied, “shalt thou indeed have dominion over us !” 

Soon after this the sons were sent with the flocks 
to Shechem, with the exception of Joseph, who was 
retained at home. Indeed, so great was the father’s 
attachment for him that he could not bear to have 
him out of his sight. One day, being anxious to 
hear from the eleven, for he had received no intelli- 
gence from them since their departure, he called 
Joseph to him and informed him that he wished him 
to go to Shechem for the purpose of ascertaining 
how the young men were getting along, and return 
as soon as possible and report. When he arrived 
within a few miles of the place, he met a stranger, 
who, on inquiring about his brethren, told him they 
had some time since removed from Shechem to 
Dothan. Accordingly he directed his course 
thitherward, and on arriving in sight of his brethren, 


THE CHILD OF PKOMISE. 


239 


being easily distinguished by his parti-colored 
tunic, all their rage was at once excited. 

“ Behold,” said one, “yonder comes the dreamer. 
Come now and let us slay him and cast him into a 
pit, and we will say some evil beast hath devoured 
him, and we shall see what will become of his 
dreams.” 

Reuben, the first born of Leah, said, “let us not 
kill him, shed no blood, but cast him into this pit 
that is in the wilderness, and lay no hand upon 
him.” 

When Joseph came up, before he had time to dis- 
mount and salute his brethren, he was rudely seized, 
dragged from his horse, his many colored coat torn 
from him, and he forced forward and thrown into 
the pit. As he sank down into its dark depths they 
departed, and coming into the vicinity of their 
flocks, they sat down to eat and drink and to make 
merry. While thus engaged, they saw in the 
distance a caravan of Ishmaelites laden with the 
precious commodities of the East, on their way to 
Egypt. As they drew near, Judah said, “what 
profit is it if we slay our brother and conceal his 
blood? Come and let us sell him to the Ishmael- 
ites, and let not our hand be upon him, for he is our 
brother and our flesh.” At the same time there 
came along Midianites, merchantmen, and the 
brethren drew Joseph out of the pit and sold him to 
the Ishmaelites for twenty pieces of silver. The 


240 


THE ASTIlOLOGEll UE CHALDEA. 


traders mounted him upon a camel, and soon he was 
on the way to Egypt. During the transaction Reuben 
was not present ; he had returned into the forest for 
the purpose of procuring means whereby to liberate 
his brother from the pit and send him home. When 
he returned to the place, he found him not, and 
supposing his brethren had slain him, he rent his 
clothes in anguish, exclaiming “whither shall I 
go?” When he came to his brethren he learned 
what disposition had been made of him. The 
brethren, to conceal their guilt, determined to 
practice the following deception upon their father : 
They killed a kid, and dipping his coat in the blood, 
sent it to their father, saying, “This have we found, 
now know whether it be thy son’s coat or no.” 
Jacob at once recognizing it said, “It is my son’s 
coat, an evil beast hath devoured him, Joseph is 
without doubt rent in pieces.” The father W'as 
instantly filled with grief, and rending his garments, 
he put sackcloth upon his loins and mourned many 
days. Though all his son’s and daughters rose up 
to comfort him, still he refused all consolation, and 
in the bitterness of his spirit exclaimed, “I will go 
down to my son in the grave mourning.” 

The caravan at length arrived in Egypt, and as 
Joseph was a delicate and likely young man, they 
took him to the court of Pharaoh, where being met 
by Fotipliar, the captain of the guard, he was 
imme liately purchased by that officer for himself. 


THE CmLU OF PROMISE. 241 

Being extremely modest, diffident, and retiring in 
his manners, the captain of the guard at once took 
him to his own palace and made him servant to his 
wife. His gentleness and kindness, combined with 
a great devotion to his master’s interests and all 
that pertained to his palace, were such as to win the 
hearts of all, and such was the confidence inspired 
in the mind of Potiphar in regard to his fidelity, 
that he placed him over all the servants, and put 
him in possession as superintendent of all his 
possessions. His youth and beauty of form and 
person made a strong and powerful impression upon 
the voluptuous nature of his master’s wife, and she 
became so enamored of his charms that it was with 
her a living passion which like a fire raged with 
uncontrollable violence within her tumultuous bo- 
som. To possess him and enjoy his society alone 
and exclusive, was her only desire, and to effect 
this object, she resorted to all the arts of which 
women of passion and pleasure are capable. Young 
and guileless, he knew not the web that she was 
endeavoring to weave around him, nor the power of 
fascination she was exerting to charm him from the 
path of virtue and fidelity. With flushed cheek 
and languishing eye and heaving bosom she would 
approach him, and with all the tenderness of 
woman, solicit him to sin. But he was proof to all 
her seductive smiles, nor did he for a moment, — so 
wonderfully did Jehovah interpose in his behalf, — 
16 


242 THE ASTKOLOGEK UE CHALDEA. 

feel an improper desire arise in his heart. Her 
burning glances and seductive wiles affected him 
no more than would the glancing moonbeams an 
icy mountain. It was not that he had no feeling 
and was exempt from all those passions which are 
common to humanity, for he was in the full bloom of 
life, but God had sealed the fountain of his virtue, 
and had placed alound it an angel guard, so that no 
wicked hand should disturb its deep and quiet waters. 

Chagrined and disappointed, and feeling her pride 
wounded, with still a burning desire, she resolved 
upon another effort to lure him to her embrace. On 
a certain day she had arranged it to have all the 
servants away from the palace, and sent for Joseph 
to come to her chamber. He accordingly obeyed 
the summons, and went trembling with fear. No 
sooner had he entered than she caught him in hei 
arms, and with more passionate expressions of 
tenderness than she had employed before, she 
entreated him to yield to her solicitations. To all 
this Joseph replied, “How can I do this great 
wickedness and sin against God?” At this he 
struggled to escape from her embrace, and so violent 
was the effort that a portion of his garment was 
torn from him in the struoffrle. Her love was now 
turned into anger, and a fiendish hatred taking 
possession of her heart, she resolved on revenge. 
Scarcely had he left the chamber until she raised 
a cry of alarm, and it being heard from without, it 


THE C'lllLi) OF I'iiOMrsK. 243 

was not long until some of her servants were in her 
room. “See here,” said she, holding up the 
portion torn from the garment of Joseph, “the 
Hebrew that he brought to me came in to my 
chamber to violate my person, and as I cried with 
a loud voice, he fled and hath left part of his 
garment.” 

When Potiphar came to his palace she related to 
him the same story, and his anger was greatly 
excited at the rehearsal, so much so that he in- 
stantly ordered his apprehension, and had him cast 
into the royal prison among the malefactors of the 
realm. Though his position in society had thus 
suddenly become changed, it did not change his 
character ; that proved sufiiciently strong to resist 
the power of temptation on the one hand and perse- 
cution on the other. It was not long here as 
elsewhere that he was permitted to remain, until he 
became a favorite, and so greatly was he esteemed 
by the jailor, that he entrusted all the prisoners to 
his care. 

Sometime after the imprisonment of Joseph, the 
chief butler and baker of Pharaoh^s palace, for 
some off'ense which they had committed against the 
king, were cast into the prison. They had been 
placed in the same ward with Joseph, and hence 
were placed under his care. One morning they 
informed Joseph that they had both dreamed, and 
they were sad on account of them. He requested 


244 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


them to relate their dreams, which they did as 
follows: — The chief butler saw a vine with three 
branches which budded and bloomed and brought 
forth ripe grapes. The chief baker saw three white 
baskets placed on his head, in which were all sorts 
of baked meats for the king, but the birds came and 
eat them. “This is the interpretation of the 
dreams,” said Joseph, “the three vines are three 
days, at the expiration of which time,” addressing 
the butler, “thou shalt be taken out and set at 
liberty.” Then addressing the chief baker, he 
said, “the three white baskets are three days, at the 
expiration of which time thou shalt be taken out of 
prison and hanged upon a tree, and the birds shall 
eat the flesh from thy bones.” After three days all 
was fulfilled as Joseph interpreted. 

It was now a period of two long years since 
Joseph was cast into prison, and notwithstanding 
his kindly offices to the chief butler, he had entirely 
forgotten him, not even so much as mentioning his 
name. A circumstance, however, occured at this 
time which brought him to remembrance. Pharaoh 
had a dream, as follows : — He stood on the bank of 
a river, and he saw coming out of the same, seven 
fine large cows, and they went to feeding in a 
meadow which lined the margin of the river. And 
again he saw seven poor lean cows come out of the 
river after them and follow them to the meadow. 
He saw also in his dream the seven lean cows eat 


THE CHILD OE PROMISE. 


245 


up the seven fat coavs, after Avhich he awoke. But 
he dreamed again on this wise ; — He saw seven 
large full ears of corn groAv upon one stalk, and 
seven thin ears, blasted by the east wind, grow 
upon another stalk, and the seven blasted ears ate 
the seven full ripe ears. The dreams greatly 
troubled the king, and being anxious for their 
interpretation, he summoned all the magicians, 
astrologers, and wise men of his realm immediately 
to his presence. They came at his command, but 
none of them were able to interpret them or give 
the least hint as to what they should indicate. 
While all Avas anxiety, the chief butler made his 
appearance and uttered the following language : — “I 
do remember my faults this day. The king recol- 
lects having committed myself and the chief baker 
to prison, and hoAv that I was graciously liberated 
Avhile he was hanged. Now it came to pass that 
we both dreamed, and we told our dreams to a 
felloAv prisoner, a young Hebrew who Avas a servant 
to the captain of the guard, and he interpreted them 
so that they came to pass just as he had said.” On 
hearing this, the king immediately sent for Joseph, 
and being duly attired, he was presented before him 
in the royal palace. Having informed him of the 
object of the interview, he related his dreams and 
asked an interpretation. After giving him to under- 
stand that it Avas by Divine inspiration that dreams 
were interpreted, Joseph gave him the following 


246 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


explanation: — “Both dreams have the same signifi- 
cation, and Jehovah in them shows thee what he is 
going to do. The seven fat kine and the seven full 
ears are designed to represent seven years of plenty, 
and the seven lean kine and seven blasted ears repre- 
sent seven years of famine which shall prevail 
throughout all the land of Egypt.” In addition to 
this, he gave him instruction in regard to the raising 
of crops and the stowing away of the produce of the 
land, in granaries in the large cities of the realm, 
so that notwithstanding the famine should be wide 
spread and grievous, there should be enough and to 
spare from the great plenty with which the land 
should be blest. Pharaoh w^as highly pleased with 
the interpretation and advice of Joseph, and regard- 
ing him as the wisest man in all his kingdom, he 
immediately promoted him to the highest honor and 
authority, averring that only in the throne should 
the king have the pre-eminence. Then taking the 
royal ring from his finger, he placed it on the finger 
of Joseph, and placing a chain of gold around his 
neck, he arrayed him in royal vestments. He then 
ordered the royal chariot, and placing him in the 
same, he ordered the officers of his court to o'O 

O 

before him and cry out to the multitude: — “Bow 
the knee before the man whom the king hath made 
ruler over all the land of Egypt.” The king then 
gave him an Egyptian name, Zaphnathpaaneah, and 
presented him for a wife Asenath, the daughter of 
Poti-pherah a priest of On. 


THE CHILD OF PROMISE. 


247 


Being invested with the vice -royalty of Egypt, 
he made a journey throughout the length and 
breadth of the land, and made all the arrangements 
necessary for garnering the fruits of the earth 
during the seven years of plenty which were to 
ensue. In process of time he was blest with 
children, the name of his first born was Manasseh, 
and the second was called Ephraim. At length the 
seven years of plenty came to an end and the seven 
years of dearth began. When the inhabitants of 
the rural districts had exhausted their supplies, they 
came to the royal city and made application to the 
king for relief, who, on hearing their complaints, 
referred them all to Joseph, telling them to observe 
whatsoever he should command them. Intelligence 
soon came from all parts of the world that the 
famine was raging, and multitudes flocked to Egypt. 
Among the number of those who came from Canaan 
were the sons of Jacob, with the exception of the 
youngest. One day, as Joseph sat upon his chair 
of state dispensing orders in the distribution of corn 
to the numerous applicants, he saw ten Canaanites 
enter the hall, and as they approached him, he at 
once recoofnized them as his brethren. It was now 
ten years since they had sold him as a slave, and 
from the position which he occupied, as well as his 
altered appearance and the peculiar manner of dress 
which he wore as vice-regent of Egypt, he was 
entirely unknown to them. As they came near 
him, in a rough commanding voice he said. 


248 


THE ASIKOLOGEK OF CHALDEA. 


"‘Whence came you?’" 

The eldest replied, “From the land of Canaan to 
buy food.” 

“Ye are spies; to see the nakedness of the land 
ye are come.” 

“Nay, my lord, but to buy food thy servants are 
come. We are one man’s sons, we are true men; 
thy servants are no spies.” 

“Nay, but ye have come to see the nakedness of 
the land.” 

“ Thy servants are twelve brethren, the sons of 
one man in the land of Canaan, and behold the 
youngest is this day with our father and the other 
is not.” 

“That is what I said unto thee, ye are spies. 
Hereby shall ye be proved. By the life of Pharaoh 
ye shall not go hence until you bring your youngest 
brother ; send one of your brethren, to bring him, 
and ye shall be kept in prison until your words may 
be proved whether there is any truth in you, or else 
by the life of Pharaoh surely ye are spies.” 

They were accordingly put in prison where they 
remained three days, at the expiration of which 
time Joseph went to them and spoke through an 
interpreter as follows : — “ This do, and live, for I 
fear God. If ye be true men, let one of your 
brethren be bound in prison, and let the rest go 
and carry corn for the famine of your houses ; but 
bring your youngest brother unto me, so shall your 
words be verified and ye shall not die.” 


THE CHILD OF PROMISE. 


249 


Deeply impressed with these words, they said one 
to another, — “We are verily guilty concerning our 
brother, in that we saw the anguish of his soul 
when he besought us and we would not hear him, 
therefore is this distress come upon us.’^ To this 
Reuben replied, “Did I not say unto you, do not 
sin against the child, and ye would not hear, there- 
fore, behold also his blood is required.’’ 

The heart of Joseph was touched by this conver- 
sation, and filled with emotions he could not repress, 
he turned aside to weep. As soon as he was able 
to command himself, at their permission he com- 
manded Simeon to be bound, and released the 
others. He also directed the merchants to fill their 

t 

sacks with corn, and privately put the money 
which they had paid, into the sacks. All things 
being in readiness, they departed on their journey 
homeward. When they completed one day’s jour- 
ney, and had stopped at an inn for the night, one of 
the brethren in opening his sack for the purpose of 
getting some corn for his animal, found on the top 
the money which he had paid for the same; on 
examination it was found that all the sacks contained 
the amount paid. At this all the brethren were 
greatly terrified and were wholly unable to explain 
the mystery. At length they arrived at home and 
made their father acquainted with all the circum- 
stances which had transpired, and how that the 
lord of the country had required them to bring 


250 THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 

their youngest brother, retaining as a surety for the 
performance of the demand, their brother Simeon 
as a prisoner. When Jacob heard this he was 
greatly distressed and exclaimed : — 

“Me have you bereaved of my children, Joseph 
is not and Simeon is notj and ye will take Benjamin 
away; all these things are against me.” 

To this Reuben replied, “slay my two sons if I 
bring him not to thee ; deliver him into my hand 
and I will bring him unto thee again.” 

“My son shall not go down with you, for his 
brother is dead, and he is left alone ; if mischief 
befall him by the way which ye go, then shall ye 
bring down my gray hairs with sorrow to the 
grave.” 

The famine continued grievous in the land, and 
it was not long until the stock of provisions brought 
from Egypt was exhausted, and it was necessary to 
get a supply. Jacob accordingly summoned his 
sons and commanded them to go again to Egypt for 
food. At this Judah responded, “The lord of the 
country did solemnly protest, saying, ye shall not 
see my face except your brother be with you. 
Therefore if thou wilt send our brother with us we 
will go, otherwise we can not go.” 

“Why,” said Jacob, “did you deal so cruelly 
with me as to tell him you had another brother?” 

“Because he asked us of our state and of our 
kindred, and we knew not his designs. If thou 


THE CHILD OF PROMISE. 


251 


wilt let Benjamin go with us I will be surety for 
him, and if I bring him not back to thee, then let 
me bear the blame forever.” 

“ Then take your brother, but take with you 
double money and presents of balm, honey, spices, 
nuts and almonds, and God Almighty give you 
mercy before the man, that he may return your 
other brother and Benjamin.” 

Thus they did as they were commanded and 
started on their journey. When they arrived in 
Egypt and presented themselves before Joseph, he 
commanded that a sumptuous feast be provided, 
and they were all invited to the princely banquet. 
When they were informed by the steward of Joseph’s 
palace of his request, they were astounded, and 
supposed that he had an evil intention ; but that 
officer told them to fear not, for all would be well. 
Simeon was brought from the prison, and all being 
in readiness, they entered the palace, and approach- 
ing Joseph, bowed with their faces to the earth, 
presenting their gifts. Joseph received them kindly, 
and in an affectionate tone inquired after their 
welfare, saying, “Is your father well, the old man 
of whom ye spake ? Is he yet alive ?” 

“ Thy servant our father is in good health, he is 
yet alive,” saying which they again bowed them- 
selves. 

Looking upon Benjamin, he said, “Is this your 
brother of whom ye spake. God be gracious to 


252 XliiS AiSTKOLOGEK OF CllALOKA. 

thee my son.” But the scene was too trying for 
his affectionate and gentle nature, and he fled from 
the banqueting- hall to his chamber, and gave vent 
to his feelings in tears. As soon as his emotion 
had subsided, he returned, and taking his seat with 
them at the table apart from the Egyptians, for 
Hebrews may not eat with them. Special attention 
and favor was shown in serving Benjamin at the 
feast. Great was the joy and rejoicing of that 
hour. When the feast was ended, the steward was 
commanded to fill the corn sacks, and secretly to 
place in that of Benjamin the silver goblet of his 
lord, which was lined with gold. Early next 
morning they were on their way. But they had 
not proceeded far until they were overtaken by the 
steward, who charged them with base ingratitude. 
“Not content with receiving corn without pay, and 
all the hospitalities of my lord’s house,” said he, 
“you have stolen the silver and gold of his table.” 
They at once protested their innocence and said, 
“if it be found on any of us, he who is guilty shall 
die, and the rest of us shall be thy lord’s bondmen.” 
“Let it be as thou hast said,” replied the steward, 
“and he shall be my servant.” On searching, the 
goblet was found in the sack of Benjamin. At this 
they were all filled with horror and amazement, and 
rent their clothes with anguish. Agreeably to the 
stipulations they all returned to the court of Joseph. 
When they made their appearance they were so 


THE CHILD OF PROMISE. 


2513 


confused they knew not what to say. Joseph 
perceiving this exclaimed, “What deed is this ye 
have done ; know you not that such a man as I can 
certainly divine?” 

“Behold,” said Judah, “we are my lord’s ser- 
vants, both we and he also with whom the cup is 
found.” 

“ God forbid,” said Joseph, “that I should do so, 
but the man in whose hand the cup is found, he 
shall be my servant, but as for you, get you up in 
peace to your father.” 

Judah stepping forward immediately replied, 
“Let not my lord be angry. If Benjamin go not 
back to his father, the old man will die with sorrow. 
Take me as thy bondman in his stead, for I became 
to my father a surety for his safe return.” 

At this, Joseph, whose feelings were becoming 
intensely excited, cried out to the captain of the 
guard, “ Cause every Egyptian to leave me instant- 
ly ;” and when all were gone but his brethren, 
unable to restrain himself any longer, he burst out 
into a passionate expression of grief. As soon as 
his feelings had subsided sufficiently to speak, he 
rose from his seat, and advancing towards his 
brethren, said, “lam Joseph, doth my father yet 
live?” The brethren were overwhelmed and con- 
founded, so that they could not speak. He repeated 
“ I am Joseph, your brother, whom ye sold into 
Egypt ; be not grieved or angry with yourselves for 


264 THE ASTKOLOGEK OF OHALDEA. 

having sold me, for God did send me before you to 
preserve you, to make you a posterity in the earth, 
and to save your lives by a great deliverance. It 
was not you that sent me hither, but God, and he 
hath made me a father to Pharaoh and lord of all 
his house, and a ruler throughout all the land of 
Egypt. Haste ye and go up to my father and say 
unto him, thus saith thy son Joseph, “Jehovah hath 
made me lord of all Egypt. Come down unto me, 
and tarry not, and thou shalt dwell in the land of 
Goshen, and thou shalt be near unto me, thou and 
thy children, and thy children’s children, and thy 
flocks and thy herds, and all that thou hast, and 
there will I nourish thee, for there are. yet five years 
of famine.” After thus speaking, he embraced 
Benjamin, and they all "wept together for joy. All 
this was known to Pharaoh, and by him well 
approved, insomuch that he ordered the necessary 
wagons for the transportation of the family, and 
supplied the company well with provisions for the 
journey. He also sent numerous and costly presents 
to Jacob, and urged him to come and make his 
home in Egypt. When they returned and the 
intelligence was communicated to the aged patriarch 
that his son Joseph was alive and ruler in Egypt, 
he was so overjoyed he fainted. When he revived, 
he said, “It is enough, Joseph my son is alive; I 
will go and see him before I die.” 

Preparations being made for the exodus to Egypt, 


THE CHILD OE DKOMISE. 


255 


the HOW numerous family took their departure. 
Stopping at Beersheba, Jacob offered up sacrifices 
and thanksgivings to Jehovah, who appeared to him 
and said, “lam the God of thy father, fear not to 
go down into Egypt for I will there make of thee a 
great nation. I will go down with thee into Egypt, 
and I will also bring thee up again, and Joseph 
shall put his hand upon thine eyes.” Thus encour- 
aged he rose and pursued his journey. Judah 
having been sent before as a messenger to inform 
Joseph of the approach of his father and family, 
consisting of seventy persons, the viceroy took his 
chariot and went out to meet them. When they 
met, a scene of most touching interest presented 
itself. No sooner did Jacob recognize his long lost 
son than he embraced him, fell upon his neck and 
kissed him. Then with tearful eyes he looked upon 
him and said, “Now let me die since I have seen 
thy face, because thou art yet alive.” The father 
was taken in the chariot of Joseph and introduced 
to Pharaoh, who received him kindly and assigned 
him and his posterity a portion in Goshen. 

Here they lived and increased in prosperity. 
Jacob died and was taken by Joseph to Canaan and 
buried. The Israelites increased greatly, insomuch 
that in a few hundred years they numbered three 
millions. During this time they were reduced to 
slavery in Egypt, but God interposed in theii 
behalf, and by a series of terrible judgments, deliv 


266 


THE ASTUOLOUKIl 01-’ CHAEUEA. 


ered them, and under the leadership of Moses they 
went to Canaan, became a great nation, boasting a 
long line of kings and prophets. From them came 
the Savior whom they rejected, and for which they 
were scattered among the nations of the earth, 
though numerous as in the days of Solomon. 



4 


3 


I 


CHAPTER XV. 


THE CHILD OF DESTINY. 

In the fate of Ishmael and his posterity we have 
the fulfilment of prophecy quite as wonderful, but 
still more startling and terrific than that which at 
present hangs like a dark and gloomy pall over the 
posterity of Isaac. We have already traced the son 
of the Egyptian mother, from the period when a 
homeless outcast child in the desert, with none but 
a mother to care for him, and we saw that mother 
in her despair lay him down to die, — but we saw a 
divine interposition in his behalf, his destiny was 
not yet fulfilled, and the child was snatched from 
the grave, and borne on by a providence as wonder- 
ful as it was marked, from period to period, in his 
history, until from the chieftain of a single tribe, 
he rose to the chieftainship of all the wandering 
tribes of the East, and his own sons became mighty 
princes and warriors, and he possessed a power and 
dominion which extended from the gulf of Persia 
on the East to that of Arabia on the West, and from 
the Mediterranean on the North to Yemen and 
Hydramant on the borders of the Indian Ocean 
In the fastnesses of the mountains of Arabia De- 
serts, and on the plains of Arabia Felix, this mighty 
17 257 


268 THE ASTRO LOG KK OF CHALDEA. 

prince constructed his palaces and fortresses, and 
pitched his tents. As early as the death of his 
father Abraham, he had become the terror of all 
surrounding nations, — and no commerce could be 
carried on with the East and the vast and mighty 
cities of the Nile, Avithout his permission and 
protection. The twelve sons of Ishmael became 
proprietors of as many towns and castles as there 
were names among them, and it was thus that when 
Isaac Avas leading the peaceful life of a shepherd, 
and his sons Avere quietly Avith him in the green and 
fertile valleys of Canaan, living in tents, and 
subsisting according to the simple rules of patri- 
archal life, Ishmael was a Avild and daring Avarrior 
on the mountains and valleys and plains of Arabia, 
living in rock built palaces, subsisting upon the 
spoils of the East, and reA^eling in oriental luxury. 

And it was thus that Avhen Esau forsook his 
father’s house, having been deprived of his birth- 
right and his blessing, that Ishmael received the 
homeless wanderer, and gave him a name and a 
place among the princes of his house. Having 
passed to an hundred and thirty-seven years, in- 
creasing ill Avealth and power and influence, having 
already borne to the grave his idol Avife and the 
mother of his valorous sons, the period at length 
arrived for Ishmael’s departure. He had kiioAvn 
and had Avorshipped the God of his father, and how 
far the consolations of that grace Avhich had so 


THE CHILI) OF DESTINY. 259 

lavishiiigly been bestowed upon his divinely favored 
and fortunate brother were imparted to him, we 
know not, for as concerning his end the Scripture 
is silent, but that he wrought out his destiny to the 
very letter of prophecy, all history declares. 

We dare not enter the secret place of that Being 
whose pavilion is darkness, spread over deep waters 
and enveloped in thick clouds of the skies, and we 
cannot know the mysteries of that Providence 
which gave to the children of the same father such 
a different destiny, and we shall wait the opening of 
that morn when all secrets shall be made known, 
when that which we now can only know in part 
shall be known perfectly, and the Great Eternal 
Father shall justify his ways to man. Till then we 
are satisfied, and though human reason stagger at 
the developments of this life, we are supported by a 
faith firm and everlasting, that “though clouds and 
darkness are round about Jehovah, yet righteousness 
and judgment are the habitations of his throne.’^ 

We have seen also how the fortunes of Isaac 
descended through Jacob to his posterity, and how, 
under the blessings of God, every event, however 
seemingly unpropitous in the beginning, wrought out 
in the end the most incalculable good. How from 
a family of seventy, Israel increased to millions, and 
when from a state of unparalleled prosperity they 
were reduced to a cruel and degrading slavery, and 
how by the Almighty arm they were delivered, and 


260 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDRA. 


miracle succeeding miracle preceded and attended 
them in all their desert journey to Canaan. We 
have seen how in the land that flowed with milk 
and honey, God given and God blessed, they spread 
out their power and influence, and became the 
mio’htiest nation in the then known world, and how 
that through them, the promised seed, all the 
nations of the earth were blessed in the incarnation 
of a Savior in the royal line. We saw when in the 
glory of her power, the proud and haughty Baby- 
lonian bear away in chains her exiled bands as 
strangers, to the far off valleys of a strange and 
inhospitable land, and we saw again at the command 
of Jehovah, emanating from that same demolished 
throne, an edict for the restoration of their scattered 
wanderers, and the rebuilding of the desolate city 
and temple, and we heard the sound of their 
coming from the lands of their exile, and beheld as 
their feet pressed the green sward of their native 
mountains. Once more at home, and their temple 
rebuilt with its worship restored, we saw it again, 
but a sad reverse had come, the crown had fallen 
from the head of Judah, the scepter of regal and 
ecclesiastical authority had departed, while the 
gorgeous temple with its courts, the magnificent 
palaces with their marble covered domes, the tombs 
and terraces where were deposited her kings and 
prophets, alike desecrated, despoiled, and left a heap 
of ruins, over which the feet of the profane have 


THE CHILD CF DESTINY. 


261 


trodden now for centuries. Scattered and peeled 
among the nations of the earth, we now see Israel 
a hiss and a by-word, yet existing a distinct and 
separate race among their foes, keeping up their 
ancient worship and sustained by the hope of their 
fathers. 

But we must return. The wandering Ishmaelites 

O 

had never been driven from the land of their father; 
unconquered and unconquerable they still mantain 
their possessions in the desert, and it is only by 
sufferance that they will allow the foot of the 
stranger to press its sands or cross their territory. 

But what became of Esau? We left him at the 
funeral of Isaac and intimated his fortunes in Rocky 
Arabia. When the Israelites were on their way to 
Canaan, they arrived on the borders of Edom, the 
country then occupied by the descendants of Esau. 
This country stretched across their entire path, 
extending from the mountains of Moab at the south 
east corner of Palestine, to the very borders of 
Ezion-Gaber on the eastern head of the Red Sea. 
They could, by passing through a narrow defile 
which running east and west, divided the moun- 
tain chain between the metropolis of Edom and 
Mount Hor, in a few hours pass the wilderness to 
the borders of the great desert, which lay on the 
east of it very near the place where they were to 
begin to take possession of the land of Canaan. 
While encamped at Kadesh Barnea, Moses sent 


*rHjj: AsiiioLOuKu of ciialdea. 

messengers to the king of Edom, requesting him to 
grant them a passage through his territory, and 
urging the request on the ground of the relationship 
which existed between the descendants of Esau and 
Jacob. But the king of Edom utterly refused them 
a passage, and marched an immense army to the 
frontier to resist the attempt, should it be made. 
The consequence was, that they had to retrace their 
steps and were obliged to march round the entire 
territory of Edom. 

History informs us that before there was a king 
reigning in Israel, Edom swayed a scepter of power 
unrivalled in the East, and that a long line of dukes 
dwelt in Petra, that fifty thousand warriors could 
issue from its capital, at a moment’s warning, to 
resist the attacks of their foes. But this was not 
all their force ; — besides being allied to the Ishmael- 
ites, they had a line of forts extending throughout 
the length of the kingdom. They were, however, 
doomed. A dreadful fate had been pronounced 
against them, their cities were to be depopulated, 
and they themselves to be destroyed. The time 
was to come when not one descendant of Esau 
should have an existence upon the earth, when the 
very name should be blotted out forever. Prophecy 
had foretold that the temples and palaces of Petra 
should be deserted, and that not even the ashes of 
an Edomite should be found in her rocky tombs ; 
that the owl and cormorant and bittern should 


THE CHILD OF DEbTINT. 


263 


inhabit their temples and fortresses, and that none 
should pass through Edom forever. 

We hear no more of the Edomites till the days of 
Saul, who warred against them with partial success, 
but their entire subjection was reserved for David, 
his successor, who first signally vanquished them 
in the Ghor beside Usdum — the mountain of Salt — 
and finally placed garrisons in all their country. 
Then w^ere fulfilled the ancient prophecies to which 
Ave have alluded, that the elder should serve the 
younger, and also the prediction of Balaam, that 
Edom and Seir should be for possessions to Israel, 
Solomon established a naval station at Ezion-Gaber, 
at the head of the gulf of Elath, the modern 
Akaba. Towards the close of Solomon’s reign an 
attempt was made to restore the independence of 
the country, by Hadad, an Edomite prince, who, 
when a child in the days of David’s invasion, had 
been carried into Egypt, and had there married the 
sister of Tahpanes, the queen. If Edom then 
succeeded in shaking off the yoke it was only for a 
season, since in the days of Jehoshapat, the fourth 
Jewish monarch from Solomon, it is said there Avas 
no king in Edom, a deputy acting as viceroy of the 
kinff of Judah. That the latter Avas ruler of the 

O 

country, is evident from the fact of his having fitted 
out a fleet at Ezion-Gaber. This deputy joined the 
confederates of Juhah and Israel in their attack 
upon Moab. In the reign of Jehoshapat there was 


264 


THE ASTROLOGER OF CHALDEA. 


a partial revolt of the Edomites, or at least, of the 
mountaineers of Seir, and under his successor 
Jehoram, they wholly rebelled and made a king 
over themselves. Notwithstanding the temporary 
suppression of the rebellion, Edom revolted from 
under the throne of Judah, and it is probable that 
the Jewish dominion was never completely restored. 
Amaziah, indeed, invaded the country, and having 
taken the chief city, Petra, in memory of the 
contest, changed the name to Joktheel ( subdued of 
God ), and his successor Uzziah, retained possession 
of Elath. In the reign of Ahaz, hordes of Edom- 
ites made incursions into Judah and carried away 
captives. About the same period, Rezin, king of 
Syria, expelled the Jews from Elath, w^hich was 
thenceforward occupied by the Edomites. Now 
had come the period when the other part of Isaac’s 
prophecy, that Esau should take his brother’s yoke 
from off his neck, was fulfilled. The Edomites 
employed their recovered power in the enlargement 
of their territory in all directions. They spread as 
far South as Dedan in Arabia, and Northward to 
Petra. When the Chaldeans invaded Judah, under 
Nebuchadnezzer, the Edomites became their willing 
auxiliaries, and triumphed with fiendish maligniDy 
over the ruin of their kinsmen, the Jews, of whose 
desolated lands they hoped to obtain a large portion 
to themselves. By this circumstance the hereditary 
hatred of the Jews was rekindled in greater fury 


mK CHILD OF DESTINr. 


«66 


than ever, and hence the many dire denunciations 
of the daughter of Edom to be found in the Hebrew 
prophets. From the language of Malachi, and also 
from the accounts preserved by Josephus, it would 
seem that the Edomites did not wholly escape the 
Chaldean scourge, but instead of being carried » 
captive, like the Jews, they not only retained pos- 
session of their own territory, but became masters 
of the South of Judea as far as Hebron. Here, 
however, in course of time, they were successfully 
attacked by the Maccabees, and about the year 125 
B. C., ■were finally subdued by John Hyreanus, who 
compelled them to submit to circumcision and other 
Jewish rites, with a view to incorporate them with 
the nation. The amalgamation of the two races, 
though proceeding from the same common stock, 
was, however, not effected, for we afterwards hear 
of Antipater, an Edomite by birth, being made by 
Cesar procurator of all Judea, and his son, com- 
monly called Herod the Great, was at the time of 
Christ’s birth, king of Judea, including Edom, and 
Roman writers often speak of all Palestine under 
that name. Not long before the siege of Jerusalem 
by Titus, twenty thousand Edomites were called in 
to the defense of the city by the Zealots, but both 
parties gave themselves up to rapine and murder. 
This is the last mention of the Edomites in history, 
and it is somewhat remarkable that their last public 
act should be in defense of the metropolis of their 


266 


THE ASTROLOUEH OE CHALDEA. 


brethren, though their conduct was not the most 
commendable on that occasion. 

From the era of the Crusades down to the begin- 
ning of the present century, a period of upwards of 
a thousand years, the land of Esau has been shut 
* up to the whole civilized world. Its location even, 
on the best maps, place it more than a hundred 
miles from its true position, and as if lying in a 
direction where it is now known there is nothing 
but a vast expanse of desert. Volney had his 
attention drawn towards it when at Gaza, by the 
vague reports of the Arabs about the wonders of 
Petra, and in 1807, the unfortunate Seetzen pene- 
trated a certain distance into the country, and heard 
of the wonders of the Wady Mousa, but the first 
modern traveler that passed through the land of 
Edom, was Burkhardt, in the year 1812, and had 
he accomplished nothing in those wonderful regions, 
his journey would have been worth all the labor 
expended on it, although his discoveries thus shed 
their strongest light on subjects not at all compre- 
hended in the plan or purpose either of himself or 
his employers. 

Burkhardt entered Edom from the North, and 
in the year 1818, he was followed in the same 
direction by Messrs, Legh, Bankes, Irby, and Man- 
gles. In 1828, Laborde and Lindant found access 
from the South, and since that period it has been 
visited and described by so many travelers that the 


THE CHILD OF DESTINY'. 


267 


names of its localities have become as familiar as 
household words. The long lost city of Esau, now 
without an inhabitant, guarded by the wandering 
Arab, by whose permission alone the solitary trav- 
eler can enter its avenue and walk through its ruins, 
is all that is left to tell of the power and glory of 
the brother of Jacob. Every step reveals wonders, 
the excavations, whether formed into temples, 
tombs, or palaces, surprise the wondering traveler 
by their number and extent. They not only occupy 
the face of the entire mountain by which the valley 
is encompassed, but the numerous ravines which 
radiate on all sides from the enclosed area; and 
were these excavations, instead of following all the 
sinuosities of the mountain and its numerous gorges, 
ranged in regular order, they would form a street 
six or seven miles in length. The front of the 
mountain is wrought into facades of splendid tem- 
ples, rivalling in their aspect and symmetry the 
most celebrated monuments of Grecian art. Col- 
umns of various orders of architecture, graceful 
pediments, broad rich entablatures, and sometimes 
statuary, all hewn out of the solid rock, and still 
forming part of the native mass, transform the base 
of the mountain into a vast splendid pile of archi- 
tecture, while the overhanging cliffs tOYvering above 
in shapes as rugged and wild as any on which the 
eye ever rested, form the most curious and striking 
contrast. But nothing contributes so much to the 


268 


THB ASTROLOGhER OF CHALDEA. 


magical effect of some of these monuments as the 
rich and various colors of the rock out of which, or 
more properly in which, they are hewn. Red, 
yellow, azure or sky blue, black, and white are seen 
in the same temple or palace in successive layers, 
or blended so as to form every shade and hue of 
which they are capable ; as brilliant and soft as they 
ever appear in flowers, or in the plumage of birds, 
or in the sky when illumined by the most glorious 
sunset. It is impossible to describe the wonderful 
effect of tall graceful columns exhibiting these 
exquisite colors in their succession of regular hori- 
zontal strata. 

But the descendants of Esau, who inhabited this 
vast city of rock, are gone. They have been 
blotted from the history of nations, but the descen- 
dants of Ishmael remain numerous and powerful as 
ever, still working out their wonderful destiny, 
“their hand against every man and every man’s 
hand against them.” 


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